


The Boy Who Runs With The Wolves

by ItsMe_Basil



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alpha Talia Hale, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Arson, Bad Parent Sheriff Stilinski, Cum Eating, Cum Play, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski are the Same Age, Drinking, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Good Peter Hale, Hale Family Feels, Hale fire, Kid Fic, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, POV Peter Hale, POV Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale Not Being an Asshole, Peter Hale has a Big Dick, Physical Abuse, Pre-Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Selectively Mute Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Slow Build Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Meets Peter When He's Thirteen, Stiles Stilinski is Peter Hale's Anchor, The Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Warning: Kate Argent, Young Peter Hale, Young Stiles Stilinski, peter is in his twenties
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:48:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 63
Words: 88,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28661979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsMe_Basil/pseuds/ItsMe_Basil
Summary: Peter gave up on his soulmate years ago. His focus was on his pack now, and he threw himself into his work, protecting the pack as Talia's left hand and enforcer. Everything he did was for the pack.But one day, everything changes.Stiles is a barely teenage boy with an affinity for Peter's woods and an unwillingness to talk much to anyone. Things go as well as can be expected.Stiles keeps Peter on his toes. From wandering the woods populated by werewolves, to finding out he's magic, and learning a drunk sheriff has a bad habit of getting a little too physical. But thats not all. No, because life was cruel, and they just can't seem to catch a break.The worst thing happens in the form of a twenty something year old blonde huntress with an arson streak and a thing for minors.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 659
Kudos: 1081
Collections: Steter collection





	1. Chapter 1

The first time he saw the young teenager, Peter was on all fours, making his rounds. 

Most of the citizens of Beacon Hills knew about the 'wolves' in their little forest -had even turned it into a preserve to keep hunters from killing the last of the California wolf population- and tended not to wander off the beaten path. 

Beacon Hills was far enough north that it wasn't all that inconceivable to spot wolves, even though it had been close to seventy years since the actual wolves had left the area. 

Peter enjoyed most of his time on four legs, trying to count how many joggers had come through the warn out path along the forest edge. 

The Hales had been rulers over Beacon Hills since it first got its name. The town was built on Hale territory, and as a result, the people who populated it became pack. 

The Hales protected the humans, and in return, the humans kept the small pack of wolves a secret from the outside world. 

Peter's family had taken on the role of preserve ranger, and on more than one occasion, found missing humans in their forest, and even fought off the occasional omega wolf. 

It was a good life, Peter mused. It could be worse. 

He was just reaching the jogger's path when a scent fit him hard. His ears perked up, shot forward and he lifted his head from the forest floor. 

In this form, it was hard to see the string of light that bubbled from his chest, but his lupine eyes zeroed in on it when it shot out into the forest, deeper, away from town and towards the smell. 

Soulmates were common. In fact, everyone had them -not just supernatural creatures. Civilization built themselves around the string of fate that connected them to their other half. 

Peter had lost hope in finding his. He had immersed himself in his duties as left-hand and enforcer to his alpha and sister. He had worked tirelessly to make sure the Hale name was known in both the supernatural communities and in Beacon Hills. 

He had no time now, for a soulmate. So why the fuck did his chose now to show up?

Peter chuffed, sullenly making his way into the woods, following the glowing blue watery string of light to his mate. 

He was close when he realized it probably wasn't the best to meet as a wolf. If his mate happened to be human, Peter would be walking in with his secret -the secret of his family- displayed. 

So, Peter slunk through the woods, deciding to just look, and meet face to face when Peter had two legs instead of four. 

It was easy to find them in the clearing a mile or so outside of the town. Not many people came this way unless they were camping or rock climbing. 

Peter scowled -or would if he had the proper muscles in his face to do so- when he saw the kid. 

He was laying on his stomach in the clearing -which explained why he hadn't seen the string of light currently connecting the two of them- sketchbook between his arms and a number two pencil tapping away on the blank page. 

Peter inched closer, quiet as he could. The kid couldn't be older than fifteen, maybe even thirteen. Hell, he could be ten for all Peter knew. 

Humans aged so much different than werewolves. Talia or even her daughter, Laura would be able to tell, but not Peter. 

The wolf lifted his nose, letting his mouth fall open as he scented the air, sifting through the scents of forest, earth, rain, mildew, pack and animal, until he found the scent of thd boy again. 

It was rich, full of cinnamon and balsam fir. A scent strange to find on a teenage boy. Human, Peter noted. 

He was wearing a light brown flannel shirt that was a few sizes too big, with stripes of dark browns, reds and greens patterning it. His jeans were blue and warn, and the black high top converse were ratty and falling from the oncd white rubber soles. 

His hair was shorn close to his head, his skin pale and covered in little brown moles. 

He wasn't a resident of Beacon Hills, that was for sure. The kid must have moved here. Peter flipped through his memory of new tenants, trying to match him to an adult. 

Three people had moved here within the month. An older couple with a cocker spaniel, a single woman with enough paint and canvas to open up her very own Michael's, and the replacement sheriff. 

None of them seemed like the type to have a kid, but he had to come from somewhere. 

The kid's tapping stopped, suddenly inspired, and Peter watched as the kid began drawing, long swipes of the pencil across paper filling the natural quiet of the forest around them. 

Peter found himself settling down on his stomach just inside a line of trees, hidden in the thicket of pricker vines and wildflowers. The boy couldn't see him. 

He tried to figure out what the boy was drawing, but it was hard for him to get a good look at it with how the pages were angled. 

They sat like that for an hour or so, and then the buzzing sound of a cell phone yanked them both out of the calmness around them. 

The boy slapped his book shut, pencil still between the pages and sat up. He scrambled to get his phone out, still ignorant to the watery light string coming from his chest. Peter's spine straightened, his body poised to sprint back to the Hale house the moment the boy tried to follow it. 

He typed away frantically, and then dropped his phone and began shoving the sketchbook and pencil in a tin box. It looked like an old cookie tin, square and rusty. The lid was snapped on and the boy stumbled to his feet, turning away from Peter and rushing to the fallen tree a storm had uprooted three years prior. 

The boy stuffed the box into the roots, and only when he straightened with phone in hand, did his breath hitch. He was staring down at his chest now. 

Peter came off his chest, still low enough to stay hidden as the boy's wide eyes followed the blue string to where Peter was hiding. 

He took a step forward, then stopped himself and looked down at his phone, the shocked look turning to a wince. 

Peter was surprised when instead of following, the boy shoved his phone in his front pocket, took one last longing look at where Peter was, and then turned and left. 

Peter waited until the boy's footsteps changed from changing on leaves and sticks to the scuff of asphalt before he crawled his way out of the brambles and thorny vines. 

He made his way to the spot the boy had laid, smelling the grass and pine needles still warmed from his body heat. His scent fit perfectly into the forest around them, complimented the sap, loam and earth. 

Peter made his way across the small clearing to the dead tree, shifting to human as he got closer and knelt down where the boy had hidden the metal tin. 

It was easy to spot because he had seen the boy hide it. It would be virtually impossible for anyone human to stumble upon it unless they spent time searching it out. 

Peter pulled it free from the webbing of dead roots, sitting on the ground and crossing his legs. The tin was just big enough for the sketchbook to fit. He pulled the lid off and was hit with a wall of the boy's scent, mixed with that of a much older not-there scent. 

Most people would feel guilty for snooping through a stranger's things, but Peter didn't have such feelings. He pulled the sketchbook out and opened it up to where the pencil was still stuck between the pages. 

It was a quick sketch, full of redrawn lines and mistakes. But it was easy for Peter to see the concept. It was his forest. The tall redwood trees, the squiggly lines of the squatty oak tree, and the shrubbery littering the forest floor. 

Peter flipped to the front of the book, where the drawings looked less refined, not as confident. They ranged from murals to self portraits to scenery and animals. 

As he flicked through, the drawings got better, until the most recent. The sketchbook was almost full. Peter shut it, careful not to move the pencil before looking in the tin again. 

The bottom of the tin held a worn Polaroid of a man and woman. They looked young, sitting on a picnic table in hideous matching orange tshirts. The woman looked pregnant, and Peter surmised it was the boy's parents.

He set the Polaroid down and picked up the next object, which was a hospital bracelet. Peter frowned at it, the inscription printed under the plastic was faded. Much too faded for Peter to decipher what it said.

There was a necklace with a small cross hanging from the chain, a baseball, a small pressed yellow flower, a couple pressed pennies from trips to the zoo, a fishing lure that had turned gummy and sticky over time, covered in dirt and hair. 

Peter searched through the whole thing. It was a memory box, but it didn't teach Peter anything about his soulmate. 

He put everything back, closed the lid and returned the box to its hiding spot before shifting back to four paws and making his way back to the pack house. 

If anyone knew who the kid was -who he belonged to- it was Talia.


	2. Chapter 2

Talia was much too busy with the alpha meetings for Peter to ask. He had forgotten all about the meeting, which really showed how thrown he was at having a soulmate. It had been three days since he spotted the boy. 

It was his job -his responsibility- as enforcer and left hand to keep his pack in line, and in turn keep the betas from the visiting packs in line as well, while his alpha talked. 

Talia had become somewhat of an important leader to the supernatural community. The alphas in the area defer to Talia when it came to decisions that affected more than just one pack. 

So, while Talia talked with the other alphas and their packs, Peter played babysitter to his nieces and and nephew. 

The rest of the betas were old enough to mind, and stay out of trouble, so Peter didn't have to worry about them as much. 

Cora, he had to worry about the most. The little devil took after her uncle, and was usually up to no good. If she was quiet, she was scheming. 

He was this close to locking the three pups in the cellar when the sound of a vehicle turning down their long stretch of driveway grabbed his attention. 

The sudden stillness and alertness from Peter had the three pups stopping too, apprehensive as they looked to their elder. 

Peter scowled, head tilting to the side a little to try and make out if the vehicle was familiar or not. 

Laura, being the oldest, tilted her head too, openly sniffing at the air. The other two rushed for the window to see for themselves. 

Peter's eyes widened when the blue string erupted from his chest again, meaning only one thing. That kid was in the car, and he was headed straight to them. 

"Whoa, uncle Peter!" Laura gasped, pointing to his chest. Derek and Cora spun around too, mouth falling open. 

"Go upstairs, please," Peter sighed, the car getting closer. 

"Is your mate coming?" Cora asked, bouncing over to Peter and wrapping her arms around his hips. 

"Upstairs," Peter repeated, nodding for the stairs. "If I find any of you listening in to my conversation I'll hang you all up by your feet and pull your fangs out."

Cora's eyes widened and she scurried up the stairs. Laura rolled her eyes, smirking a bit but following. 

"You're not really gonna pull our fangs out, are you?" Derek asked, looking up at Peter with wide eyes. 

"I'll do it before your mom comes back," he promised. That got Derek scurrying after his sisters, and he waited until he heard their bedroom doors shut before moving to the window. 

The pups didn't know how to read chemo signals yet, or how to listen for a lie in a heart beat, so Peter got away with plenty of hollowed threats. Laura was almost sixteen, so his tricks didn't work on her anymore, but Derek being only twelve, and Cora being eight, meant Peter still had a few more years before they too, could tell when he was pulling their leg. 

The car that pulled around the bend was a police cruiser and Peter frowned at that. He waited just out of sight, watching as the new sheriff stepped out. The boy was in the passenger seat, staring up at the house with wide eyes. He climbed out too when his dad waved him on. 

Peter watched the sheriff and the boy climb the steps and knock on the door. He stood there, watching them scenting through the door. 

After a sufficient amount of time passed, and before the man could knock a second time, Peter walked to the door and pulled it open. 

The boy looked up with his mouth parted, eyes growing wider. Peter looked at the sheriff, then to the boy, and the sheriff looked between his son and Peter before muttering an "awe hell," under his breath. 

The boy tore his eyes from Peter and looked at the sheriff, then looked back at Peter. His scent spiked with an apprehensive excitement, and Peter knelt down in the doorway to get closer to the kid's eye level. 

He stood to his dad's elbow, and knelt down, Peter reached the kid's chest. 

"Hello, sweetheart."

The boy looked down at Peter, chest heaving a bit with nerves before looking up at the sheriff. Peter looked up at him too, subtly scenting the air. 

"Would you like to come in?"

"Yeah," the sheriff nodded. Peter stood up and stepped away from the door, allowing his little mate and the sheriff to come in.

"Dont touch anything," the sheriff muttered to the boy when they made it to the living room. The boy only nodded, distracted as he took in the decor. 

"You're Talia Hale's kid brother?" The sheriff asked. Peter nodded, sitting down on the recliner his father preferred. He nodded for the couch opposite him and the sheriff sat down. 

The boy did too, leaving about a foot of room between the two and stuffing his hands between his thighs. 

"Uh, this is Stiles," the sheriff nodded to his side. Peter's eyes landed on the boy again, giving a small smile. 

"I'm Peter," he greeted. The boy said nothing, but his scent did spike with happiness, even if it was tinged with uncertainty. Peter assumed it had something to do with his age, and the fact that the kid's dad was present. 

"Why don't we start with you telling me about yourself," the sheriff suggested. Peter raised an eyebrow and looked over at the sheriff. "Starting with your age."

Peter could tell the human was used to being the alpha, but he would get no submission from the werewolf sitting across from him. Even if he was the father of his mate. 

But he would play nice, if only to keep the peace. 

"I'm twenty-three," he started, which had the sheriff cursing a bit under his breath -not realizing Peter could hear perfectly well- and Stiles' eyes to widen impossibly. 

"I'm the head park ranger," he continued, ignoring the sheriff's foul language. "I have a bachelor's degree in both law and criminal justice, and an associate's degree in mythology and occultism."

The sheriff just blinked. Peter could smell the shock wafting off him, and couldn't help but smirk a bit, looking over at Stiles when his scent took on a bit of proud smugness to it. 

"So you know the laws on underage soulmates then?" The sheriff asked, his law enforcement face on. 

"I'm well aware of the laws," Peter nodded. "I have no intention of breaking them, if that's what you're asking." He was a little offended the man suggested he might. 

It wasnt unusual to have soulmates that were younger. Peter had no problem keeping his hands to himself until Stiles was more mature. 

The sheriff didn't seem all that reassured though. 

"I'm assuming this discussion is going to take a while," he sighed, standing to his feet. "Can I offer you something to drink?"

"Waters fine," the sheriff said. Peter nodded before turning to Stiles. 

"There are kids upstairs, if you want to go up."

Stiles blinked, then looked at his dad, waiting for permission. When the sheriff nods, the kid jumps up and follows Peter into the kitchen. The sheriff stays were he is on the couch. 

Peter brings down a glass to fill for the sheriff, then glances down at Stiles, who is leaning against the island counter, hip bones pressing into the marble. 

"Would you like something to drink?"

Stiles nods, not taking his honey brown eyes off Peter. They're almost beta gold in the light. 

Peter pulls down a second glass before filling them both up with water. He hands one to Stiles. He wonders if the kid talks at all, or if he's just shy. 

Derek had a brief stint of mutism that lasted until he was seven. Talia had worried he was a late bloomer -which he was. Poor kid couldn't even shift yet. Peter got real good at reading his nephew, he didnt think he'd have a problem with Stiles. 

"Go upstairs," Peter said, nodding to the staircase. "The kids don't bite much, and your dad will come get you when we've finished talking."

Stiles nodded once before disappearing up the stairs. Cora was already waiting for him in the dark hallway and tugged him to Laura's room. 

Peter made his way back to the living room, handing the glass to the sheriff before sitting down across from him. 

"The kids upstairs your siblings?" The sheriff asked. 

"No, my sister's kids," Peter corrected. "I'm babysitting while she's away on business."

Away on business being just a few miles away in an abandoned distillery with about four other alpha werewolves and their packs all in tents. 

The sheriff nodded. "How old are they?"

"Oldest is almost sixteen. The other two are twelve and eight," Peter said. "How old is Stiles?"

"He's thirteen," the sheriff said. So, ten years younger than Peter. When Stiles was legal, Peter would be almost thirty years old. The thought made Peter's fingers twitch. "I don't like the age difference."

"No," Peter agreed with a sigh. "Its not ideal."

"I have ground rules."

"As do I," Peter nodded. "Lets hear yours." The sheriff eyed him a second before he nodded once. 

"I don't want the two of you alone, at least until he's much older. You'll both follow the law, and I'd like to speak with your parents as well."

Peter bristled inwardly at that last part. To humans, being twenty-three was barely adulthood, but it wasnt to a werewolf. Werewolves grew to full maturity at seventeen. Asking to speak to his parents like Peter was still a child was borderline insulting. 

"My parents died," Peter settled on, voice slightly clipped. "If you'd like, you can talk with my sister. She's my legal guardian."

Peter studied law and criminal justice for a reason. It was his job to know both human and supernatural laws so he could talk his way out of anything. Could get his pack out of any trouble they found themselves in. 

In any regard, Peter was too old to need caring for when his parents died, leaving Talia with the alpha spark at twenty-seven. He was sixteen though, and in the eyes of human law, he had needed a guardian. 

Talia was his older sister and alpha, her job was the human equivalent of a legal guardian. 

"As for the two of us being alone," Peter continued. "That won't be a problem."

The sheriff raised an eyebrow at that. "I live with my sister, her three kids, and an odd assortment of relatives. There isn't much privacy around here."

Peter wanted to lean forward and take charge of the conversation, and had to restrain himself from doing so. The human would not appreciate it. 

"Stiles is allowed to come over whenever he wants," Peter continued. "The house is always open. I'd also like to get to know the both of you."

The sheriff was quiet for a long time. Peter took that time to listen in on his nieces and nephew talking with Stiles upstairs. Again, the boy said nothing to any of them. 

"I can handle that," the sheriff nodded finally. Peter smirked, glad the man had readily agreed. Stiles was now pack, and by association, so was the sheriff. 

He would think about breaking the news to the both of them at a later time. Now, he had a more pressing question than if the two humans could handle a pack of fangs and claws. 

"He doesn't speak much," he said, eyes lifting to the ceiling. The sheriff's eyes followed and he huffed a breath that felt too world wary. 

"He used to be very vocal," the sheriff confessed. "We lost my wife a year ago, and Stiles hasn't really been coping all that well."

Peter's lips persed. That explained the hospital bracelet. "Are you coping well?"

Peter admitted to himself he didnt really care much for his answer. He wasn't the most empathetic of werewolves -a side effect of his position in the pack. 

"We should get going," he said instead of answering. Peter stood when he did. 

"My sister will be free this weekend. I'll have her call you," Peter said. The sheriff nodded, giving him a thin lipped smile. 

Peter turned his head to the stairs and called -unnecessarily loud- for the kids to come down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter meets the sheriff! What do you guys think? Thanks so much for reading,!


	3. Chapter 3

"Why didn't you tell me you found your mTe?" Talia demanded, eyes wide as she stormed into Peter's room. He had heard her coming -had heard Laura shouting excitedly about uncle Peter's mate light the moment the alpha had walked into the house. 

Peter grunted, pushing himself away from the desk in the corner of his room. Talia had her arms crossed over her chest. 

"You were a little busy, sister," he reminded her, voice deadpanned. 

"So?" She demanded, arms uncrossing to flail wide on either side of her. "I'm never to busy for soulmates, Peter, you know that."

He did know that. She had been more upset about Peter's lack of one than Peter had been. 

He resigned himself to placating his older sister with details of his mate. Talia practically demand he spill all his secrets when she dropped onto the corner of his bed, closest to the desk. 

"He's only thirteen," he stated firstly. "Human, and doesn't speak much."

"Whats his name?"

"Stiles," Peter said. "He's the new sheriff's kid."

"I didn't know John had a kid," Talia frowned, eyes going distant as she tried to recall her first meeting with him. 

"Had a wife too," Peter nodded. "Died just last year, from what he said."

Talia gave a small sad hum in response. She was much more empathetic than Peter was. But then again, she was allowed to be. 

"I want to meet him," Talia said. 

"John's already expecting your call," Peter sighed. "And Stiles will be around."

"Do you think either of them would take the news well?" Talia asked, slipping into her alpha shoes. Pack -for her and for Peter- came first. 

"Too soon to tell," Peter said. He would not bring his mate or the sheriff into the know if it had even the slightest chance of hurting his pack. 

"I'm happy for you, Peter," Talia smiled, standing to her feet. Peter grunted his assent, slouching a big in his chair as Talia stepped over to him and ran her fingers through his hair. 

Peter grumbled, moving his head out if the way, but Talia just grinned before making her way out of his room. "I want to meet your little mate soon, Peter," she called as the door shut behind her. 

*-*

Peter found his mate two days later, in the same clearing as before. He was on two legs this time and wearing the tacky forest green ranger shirt the Hales had taken to donning regularly to sell the act. 

"You shouldn't be out here all alone," Peter said, stepping into the clearing. Stiles yelped -the first noise he'd made in front of Peter- and flailed his arms and legs, rolling from his stomach to his side, then scrambling into a seated position. "There's wolves out here, you know."

Stiles just stared with wide eyes, heartbeat still jackhammering in his chest. Then, the kid narrowed his eyes. 

"There's no wolves in California," he said, voice quiet. Peter hummed, walking further into the clearing. Stiles' box was beside him, sketchbook having been slapped closed in his spazzing. 

"Maybe not in Southern California," Peter said. Stiles still looked skeptical, not believing at all. "Can I sit?"

Stiles crossed his legs under him and nodded, shoving the worn sketchbook into the tin box and slapping the lid on it. 

Peter got closer before falling to his ass in the grass and pine needles. 

Stiles' eyes took on a more curious look to them as he peered at Peter. It took him a while to dredge up the courage to speak -his mouth opening on an inhale just to close again on the exhale. Peter waited patiently. 

"Where'd the light go?" He finally asked. Peter glanced down at his chest, then to Stiles'. 

"Once you meet it goes away," Peter hummed. "Otherwise everyone would be walking around with fate strings connecting them, together and tangling up like yarn."

Stiles made a face at that before shrugging his shoulders. "I guess."

Peter moves so he can lay flat on his back, legs crossed at the ankle and hands folded over his stomach. The sun shines in his face, and Peter inhales with his eyes closed, smelling the cinnamon and balsam fir of Stiles. 

After a moment of neither moving, Stiles shifts a bit. "Aren't you supposed to be working?"

Peter cracks an eye, glancing over at Stiles before shrugging and closing his eyes again. 

"You're much more interesting than the trees, sweetheart," he said. Stiles doesn't respond to that, but Peter can hear his heart skip a beat. 

After a moment, the kid shifts, and Peter can hear the hesitant rustle of paper before he starts drawing again, the sketchbook placed on his lap. 

*-*

It becomes a regular thing between the two of them. For the following two weeks, Peter finds Stiles in the clearing. He's never there on weekends, and Peter figures the kid comes here after school. 

Sometimes they talk, and sometimes they just sit in each other's company. Stiles isn't much of a talker, and has stuck mainly to one sentence responses -which were few and far between. 

The first time Stiles sees him as a wolf, both are surprised. Its Saturday, and Stiles isn't in the clearing. No, instead of being in the woods between lookout point and the public school, the thirteen year old is back behind the Linda Vista Estates, at the outcropping of fallen boulders near the edge of the steeply inclined mountain. 

He was languidly walking from one rock to another, arms slowly windmilling and legs loosely carrying him along. In his right hand was a ziplock bag of peanuts. 

Stiles tilts a bit too far to the side, nearly falling off the rock and loosing his snack, but rights himself by dropping a hand onto the rock his feet are currently on. 

Peter just watches, still confused as to how the kid had gotten so far from his clearing -and yes, Peter had taken to calling the clearing near Woodland pond Stiles'- without anyone noticing. 

Stiles turned around and freezes, eyes widening as he took Peter in. He takes slow movements to climb down onto solid ground, bag of peanuts still clutched in his hand. 

Peter dropped his rump into the dirt. He couldn't exactly run off now, he had no idea if Sfiles was lost. But he couldnt freak the kid out either by approaching him. 

It would have to be Stiles coming to Peter. And wasn't that ironic? Humans used that tactic on frightened animals. 

It was easy to use manurisms of dogs to lull Stiles into trusting him in his wolf form. Within the hour, he had the kid throwing peanuts at him to try and get him to come closer. 

Peter played along, picking up the food thrown at him, stepping closer when Stiles shortened his throws, until Peter was within arms reach.

Stiles smiled and held out a hand with four peanuts on his palm. Peter made sure to move slowly, not wanting to spook him with fast motions. 

He kept his lips down to hide his teeth as he lapped the peanuts up off his hand. Stiles did this twice more before growing the courage to reach his other hand out and lightly touch the fur on Peter's shoulder. 

Peter smugly followed the kid back towards town much later, keeping hidden to make sure he made it back safe. Stiles was under the assumption he was the one to get a wolf to trust him, but in fact it was the other way around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've already got 20 chapters written for this book and let me tell ya, I have feelings!!!! 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think!


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles was exploring the woods more now. Sometimes Peter would join him as a man, talking softly to the boy and getting to know him more as Peter's mate. 

Most times he was a wolf, following at a safe distance, giving Stiles the false sense of being alone. 

He seemed to like the woods. When Peter had asked him, Stiles had shrugged, cheeks and ears growing pink as he jumped off a fallen tree he had walked down. 

"Donno," he said softly. "Its nice out here."

It was as good an answer as any. Peter assumed he hadn't lived anywhere close to woods before moving here. 

The sheriff was never around either. Peter assumed it was because of work priorities -which he understood. It was nice getting to know Stiles without his father present though. Stiles seemed to open up more when it was just the two of them. 

Peter chuffed contentedly next to Stiles in his clearing, the boy again on his stomach and propped up on his elbows. He wasn't drawing this time, instead swipping his finger over his phone as he scrolled through the odd social media account. 

Peter was laying with his head on the small of Stiles' back, keeping vigil. He had heard members of hid pack not far away -too far for Stiles to hear- but had quickly made it known that the two of them were to be left alone. 

From the way the young wolf huffed in annoyance at being refused a chance to puppy play with Stiles, he knew it was Laura and her pack friends. 

Peter stretched a bit, moving his head so he was laying side by side with Stiles, and then stretching forward on his stomach, front paws army walking forward. 

Stiles looked over at him and smiled softly, amused at his wolfy behavior. Peter glanced down at his phone, nosing at Stiles' arm. 

If he could smirk, he would be. His little mate had found his Instagram account. Stiles pulled his arm away from Peter's cold nose, reaching his opposite hand across himself to pet Peter between his ears. 

Stiles returned to scrolling down Peter's account, clicking on a few pictures to enlarge it and stare, before clicking out and continuing down the feed. 

Peter watched him, curious to know what pictures caught Stiles' attention. 

There was one or two of him in wolf form that Talia had taken on his phone, from a distance and without his permission. One of them were with other members of the pack, and some were of Peter running through the back yard, chasing a shrieking Cora off camera. 

Stiles glanced at Peter from over his shoulder, grinning before angling the phone to show Peter the picture. 

"Is that you?" He asked, amused. Peter only chuffed, rumbling lowly as he settled his head down on his paws. Stiles only grinned before scrolling further. 

Peter had maybe four hundred some odd pictures on his account, even though he had it for close to eight years. 

When Peter lifted his head again just a few seconds later, it was because Stiles shifted a bit. Peter looked up to see Stiles angle his phone again, this time looking sheepish and embarrassed. 

He was showing a picture of Peter at the beach with Talia and her late husband. Peter had on a pair of sunglasses and a white tshirt, holding the camera with one hand while his other arm was wrapped around Talia's neck. 

She was also smiling, but not at the camera. Her eyes faced ahead, and beside her, her husband Will had his mouth open, caught in the middle of shouting at Laura, who had run ahead to chase the seagulls. 

Talia was holding a three year old Cora in her arms. Derek had been on Peter's other side, sulking that they couldn't actually swim that day because the currents had gotten bad. 

Peter glanced at Stiles, who now couldnt look at him with how pink his cheeks were getting. 

"He's mine," Stiles whispered, pointing to Peter with such awe and pride in his voice that Peter wanted to strut around like a peacock. 

Instead, he reached forward and licked his cheek. Stiles giggled a bit and shoved his nose away before clicking out of the picture and scrolling back to the top of Peter's page. 

He clicked on the most recent one and showed Peter again. "See?"

Peter chuffed and Stiles grinned before exiting out of the picture and staring at the profile description. Peter had left it mostly blank. It said his age, his name, and Beacon Hills Ranger. 

Stiles' thumb hovered over the blue follow button, chewing on his lip for a moment. He almost pressed it but chickened out last second, and Peter rolled his eyes. 

They'd met nearly a month ago. Peter honestly would've found Stiles' account if he thought the kid had one. 

So, while Stiles contemplated pressing the follow button, Peter decided to take matters into his own hands -paws. 

With one quick nudge of his nose into Stiles' elbow, the deed was done. Stiles' eyes widened and he dropped the phone like it had electrocuted him. 

"What did you do?" Stiles exclaimed, and it was the loudest Peter had ever heard him. He rolled onto his back, hands covering his face, elbows reaching for the sky. "Oh my God, Wolf I can't believe you did that!"

Stiles' heart was racing and he continued to have a mini panic attack in the grass at Peter's 'mistake'. Peter only chuffed in amusement, standing up and walking until he was standing over Stiles. 

He nosed at the kid's stomach, where his shirt had ridden up and Stiles gasped, hands flying from his face to Peter's. It didn't stop him from nosing and licking at his belly and Stiles broke into a laughing fit, legs kicking and hands shoving. 

"St-stop! Stop don't do that!" Stiles shrieked, continuing to giggle. He rolled over to hide his stomach, so Peter moved his nose to the side of his neck. Stiles tried to hide himself with his arms, but Peter managed to weasel his nose in. 

Afterwords, when Stiles was panting for air, cheeks flushed and heart slowing from a rapid pace, he picked the phone up and looked down at it. 

Then he looked at Peter with narrow eyes. "You did that on purpose," he accused. Peter only tilted his head. "I can't take the follow back either," he went on with a sigh, turning it off and shoving it in hid pocket. "He'll know."

Of course he will, Peter thought with an inward smirk. Stiles flopped down on his back, arms and legs starfished on either side of him. He stared up at the sky before looking at Peter. 

"D'you think he's upset I'm so young?"

Peter nearly rolled his eyes at that, thumping to the ground beside Stiles and resting his head on the boy's chest. 

Stiles reached a hand over to pet over Peter's head. Peter -in this form and his human one- was bigger than Stiles in every way. Height, size, build. 

Peter's head covered most of Stiles' torso, his paws bigger than Stiles' hands. Stiles sighed, the puff of air rustling the fine fur between Peter's ears. 

*-*

One day, Peter noticed a bruise coloring the pale skin on Stiles' jaw, close to the hinge where jaw met ear. 

"What happened to your face?" Peter asked. Stiles was sitting at the kitchen table, a turkey and cheese sandwich in his hands. Talia had picked him up from school when the sheriff hadn't arrived. 

"Nothin'," Stiles mumbled. Peter raised an eyebrow, and Stiles ducked his head to bite into his sandwich. 

With a huff, Peter walked around the island and grabbed Stiles' chin when the kid had finished chewing, angling him so Peter could get a better look.

"Peter," Stiles protested with a grunt, trying to pull his chin away. Peter just tightened his grip, scowling. 

"What happened?" He demanded. He lifted his head when Talia walked in, silently demanding she tell him anything Stiles might have mentioned to her while in the car. 

She shook her head and shrugged, so Peter turned his gaze back to Stiles. 

"Nothing happened," Stiles grunted. "I just fell."

"Lie," Peter said. Stiles yanked his chin from Peter's grip, scowling down at his plate and fidgeting. 

"Nothing happened," he repeated. Talia's eyebrows were slowly drawing down, the look of a concerned mother and alpha. 

"Was it a kid from school?" She asked, leaning against the entry way to her office. Stiles didnt say anything, just stared down at his plate. 

Peter had to swallow the growl in his throat, and forced himself to take a deep breath before sliding into the seat beside him. 

"Stiles, look at me." Stiles reluctantly lifted his honey brown eyes to meet Peter's blue ones. "If someone's hitting you, you need to tell someone."

"No one's hitting me," Stiles said softly, looking down at his lap when he said it. His heartbeat contradicted his words. 

"Alright, sweetie," Talia said, shooting Stiles a reassured smile. "Why don't you finish eating and then you can go upstairs and work on any homework with Derek until your dad gets here."

Stiles nodded, pushing the last quarter of his sandwich away before jumping out of the chair and climbing the stairs, backpack slung over one shoulder. 

Peter turned to Talia with a scowl. 

"I know," Talia sighed, her shoulders sinking and her face looking worn. "I'll talk to Derek. Maybe he can keep an eye on Stiles while they're in school."

Peter nodded, scrubbing his face with his hands. "I'm gonna kill whoever did it."

Talia walked over and ran her hand through his hair. It was growing too long, but Peter hadn't had the motivation recently to cut it. 

"Let me worry about it," she demanded. Peter opened his mouth to snap at her, but she flashed red eyes and Peter's words died in his throat, along with the growl. "Its not your job, Peter. You're his mate, not his parent, or his alpha. When we find out who is hitting Stiles, the sheriff and I will handle it."

Peter clenched his jaw, then unclenched it and took a deep breath. She was right. 

Peter didn't want to start off their relationship with Peter being the authority figure. They were equals, even if Stiles was ten years younger than him. 

"Okay," he finally managed. Talia smiled, a sad knowing smile before patting his head and walking back into her office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I tagged this as Stiles being selectively mute, and then I write Stiles speaking, and you're all probably wondering why. 
> 
> Selective mutism is different for everyone, and in Stiles' case, his mutism stems from losing his mom and trying to deal with his dad's rapid decline in father of the yearness. 
> 
> Some selective mutes talk to people they're comfortable with, and in this case, Stiles is comfortable with Peter, and is growing more comfortable with the rest of the Hale pack. For Stiles, it helps that they have no connection to his parents and the trauma tied to them, so he talks. 
> 
> He's still selectively mute around other people, and I don't want to give too much away, but Stiles does heal and we get sarcastic snarky Stiles later in the book!
> 
> Let me know what you guys think! A lot of you guys wanted me to chapter dump the whole 20 chapters and others wanted me to post every day, and I might just take you guys up on that and post daily! Sound good???


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles was back behind the Linda Vista Estates a few days later when Peter was making his rounds, and like the first time, Peter hadn't expected him to be there. Especially not so early in the day. 

Laura and Derek were still in school, which meant his little mate was skipping. Peter grumbled at that, but he made his presence known to the boy all the same, figuring he'd much rather make sure the kid didn't get lost. The others could continue their daily walk around the territory. 

Stiles jumped off a log that stood about half his height on its side, converse thumping hard on the forest floor. 

He glanced over at Peter and grinned. The bruise on his jaw was now an ugly green and yellow color, with splotches of purple near the center. Peter made his way over to him, making sure to keep his tail up and wagging slowly as he approached. 

"Don't have any food this time," Stiles said softly, tone apologetic as he ran skinny fingers through Peter's coat. 

The two of them walked further into the forest, Peter letting the teenager explore as much as he wanted. He didnt think it would hurt anything, especially with Peter knowing the land so well, he'd be able to lead Stiles back if the kid got turned around. 

He didnt speak much even to the wolf, which Peter found odd. Most humans spoke to their pets -or any animal really- like they were their very own personal therapist. 

Stiles, however, only talked when he needed to, and quite like Derek, spoke in ten words or less. Peter didn't always stay by Stiles' side as he walked. Sometimes he checked in on different areas of the territory, chasing rodents away. 

He lost track of where Stiles was leading the two, until the sudden wall of power slammed into him, and Peter stilled, nose still pressed to the dirt at his feet. 

He lifted his head, looking down the ravine at where Stiles was stumbling over loose dirt and rocks. He was leading them to the nemeton. 

Just as quickly as that realization came, Peter was sliding down into the large ditch, exposing roots on his way. 

Stiles was already climbing up the other side by the time Peter got to him, and he huffed, beginning to climb up after him. 

The incline was sharp, and there wasn't much to grab onto. The dirt too loose and covered with leaves. Both of them slipped a couple times, but made it up. 

Stiles paused to catch his breath, making a face at his dirty hands before wiping them on his jeans. Peter gave a small noise, nosing at Stiles' hand to get him to follow. 

Stiles almost did. He was so close to following Peter away from the nemeton, when something caught the boy's attention. 

Peter got in front of him and stopped. Stiles stumbled to keep from running into him, arms windmilling and feet shuffling, but he got out of the way, shooting Peter a look as he continued walking. 

Peter tried again, but this time Stiles expected it and jogged ahead. New technique then, Peter chuffed. He ran up ahead, spun around so he was five feet in front of Stiles, and dropped his front legs down, slapping the ground with his ass in the air. 

Stiles grinned before slapping his own thighs in the same gesture, body bent forward. The two stayed mirroring each other, and then Stiles slapped his thighs twice more. 

Peter jumped forward and Stiles huffed a laugh, faking right before shuffling to the left. Peter played his game, acting like an excitable puppy while Stiles continued his little dance. 

Peter thought he had effectively distracted the kid enough for him to forget hid destination, but suddenly the smile dropped and he straightened, head turning back to the nemeton, like he had heard something. 

His eyebrows furrowed and Peter looked on, analyzing the boy's reaction. Stiles gave a curious little hum before stepping over the small creek separating them from the nemeton. 

The Hale pack protected the nemeton for generations. The druids before them, and even before the druids, the gods. The nemeton was there before the beginning, and would be there after the ending. It was sacred and worshipped by everyone and everything. 

The world only had seven of these sacred trees. It was the reason the Hales had first settled into Beacon Hills. It was how Beacon Hills got its name. 

Because the nemeton attracts supernatural creatures. It draws them in like a beacon calling them home. 

Stiles stumbled a bit on his way closer, and Peter quickly followed after him, grabbing his shirt sleeve before the kid could step into the clearing. 

The power that emanated from the nemeton usually scared people off, and those it didnt scare off venerated its power and stayed respectfully away. 

Peter yanked Stiles' sleeve and the boy stumbled back a little. He looked down at Peter with a small frown before looking at the nemeton again. Peter couldn't tell what was going on in his mind, but Peter didn't like it. 

Especially when he pulled his sleeve from Peter's teeth and settled a hand on his muzzle, eyes never leaving the nemeton. 

"Its okay," he said quietly, taking a step into the clearing. Peter lunged to grab him again, but Stiles was already in the clearing, closing the distance between him and the nemeton. 

Peter let out a whine, glaring down at the ground he refused to step on. He had no right. 

He looked back at Stiles, worried the boy was going to get himself hurt by touching something beyond his comprehension. 

Stiles stumbles a bit on the thick twisted roots above the ground, hand slapping on the stump to keep himself from falling face first, and Peter's seconds away from running after him when the kid rights himself and grins. 

"Do you hear that?" Stiles asked, turning to look at Peter. He's grinning, hand still on the nemeton, body bent low at the hip. 

Peter tilts his head, trying to pick up what Stiles is listening to, but can't hear anything. Stiles turns back to the nemeton and climbs up onto the flat surface, kneeling on the edge before dropping his head down so his ear is pressed to the tree. 

He hums, pulling his head away and looking around the clearing with a scowl. Peter takes a small step into the clearing, ready to jump back the instant the nemeton decides the 'wolf isn't worthy. 

Peter can feel a wave of power, but it's weak. Its been a long time since anyone has fed power to the nemeton. But Peter knows its still powerful enough to wipe out all of Northern California if anyone tried to take from it. 

Stiles' head snaps down to the tree with wide eyes, then blinks and looks up at Peter, who has two feet in the clearing. 

He scrambles off the tree, stumbles again on the roots and scurries towards Peter with a quick heart rate and sharp breath.

He makes it to where Peter is waiting for him, fingers twisting into the fur of his shoulders, eyes still on the nemeton, even as Peter leads him away. 

Whatever the nemeton did hadn't hurt him, but it freaked the kid out anyway. Peter wondered if thats how the nemeton kept other humans away. 

When they were safely away, Stiles looked forward again, then stopped. Peter stopped with him, glancing up at him and licking at his shirt sleeve. 

Stiles dropped to his butt, legs crossed. Peter chuffed, nosing at his cheek before sitting as close as he could. Stiles petted his chest, calming himself down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! This is finds be when Stiles learns about his gifts and whatnot. It's more of a filler chapter but let me know what you think!!


	6. Chapter 6

"Uncle Peter!" Cora shouts, the front door slamming into the wall behind it in her rush. Peter glances up from his book just in time to move it out of the way. Cora jumped onto his lap, inches away from slamming her knee into his dick. 

"Look!" She nearly shrieked. Peter tried not to wince at the ringing in his ears and watched Cora hook her fingers into the sides of her mouth, opening her mouth wide and pulling her lips away from her teeth. 

"I don't see anything," Peter huffs. 

"No, not yet!" She slurred. Peter sighed but gave her his attention. After a couple seconds of Cora looking like she was trying real hard to shit herself, two sets of fangs elongated from her mouth. 

"Wow," Peter grinned. Cora pulled her fingers out of her mouth, bouncing excitedly on his lap. "Have you told mom yet?" 

"No-"

"Told mom what yet?" Talia asked, walking into the room from her office. 

Peter grunted when Cora climbed off of his lap before running to Talia. 

"Look, mom!"

Most werewolf children didnt start learning to control their shifts until they were close to ten. Laura had learned quick, with Talia's help. Derek had been a late bloomer in every sense of the word, and was still working on control even now at twelve. 

Cora, at eight, was the earliest in the pack to learn. Peter grinned as Cora bounced and skipped around her mother, the excited thrum in her little body making Talia smile proudly. 

Peter turned back to his book while Talia took Cora to the kitchen for a celebratory zebra cake. 

Laura walked in a few minutes later, shutting the front door Cora had left open before plopping down into the seat beside Peter. 

"What're you reading?"

"Brushing up on human law," Peter responded, making a point to turn the page with a flutter of paper. 

"Sounds boring," Laura grunts, slouching in her chair and scrolling on the phone placed precariously on her chest. Peter huffs in amusement as Laura's neck disappeared. 

When Talia returns to the living room not long later, Peter's halfway through the section on human trafficking laws. 

To think humans think so little of their peers that they were willing to do such horrible things to them was beyond Peter's understanding. The punishment for such things seemed a little too lenient to the 'wolf. 

"Laura, I need a minute with uncle Peter," she said. Laura glanced at Peter, silently asking if Peter was in trouble with a raised eyebrow. Peter raises his own eyebrow and Laura huffs, unfolding herself from the couch. 

Peter shuts the book and sets it on the end table, sitting forward a bit when Talia takes Laura's spot. Her features take on a hard concern, that of an alpha worried for her betas. 

"The kids in school aren't the ones hitting Stiles," Talia said. Peter frowns at that. "Derek's got all but one class with him and says the kids aren't really doing anything."

"What does he mean 'aren't really'?" Peter demands. Talia sighs, a little placatingly. 

"Peter, you know human children can be mean when someone's different," she said. Peter did. "And Stiles is."

"Just because he's a little quiet-"

"Peter," Talia cut off, sighing again. "He's not just a little quiet. He doesn't talk at all."

"He talks to me," Peter said, albeit a little petulantly. 

"Either way," Talia concedes. "The kids pick on him, but no one's gotten physical. At least not since he got the bruise."

"Is the sheriff doing anything about it?" Peter asked, scowling. 

"I'm sure he is," Talia nodded. "I haven't been able to get ahold of him."

"Hes not really active in Stiles' life," Peter huffed. "I don't think he's picked Stiles up once since they moved here."

Talia frowned too at that. "What makes you say that?"

Peter huffs and leans forward so his elbows are pressed into his thighs just above his knees. 

"I've found him in the clearing by Lookout Point. Almost every day," he said. "He stays for a couple hours and then goes home."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Talia asked. 

"I'm keeping an eye on him," Peter shrugged. The two sat in silence for a while, Talia sighing heavily and running a hand through her long dark hair. 

"You don't think the sheriff hit him, do you?" Peter asked, voice low to keep the kids upstairs from hearing. The look Talia gave him said she did, or at least thought it was a strong possibility. 

"We don't know for sure," she said. "And I don't want you doing anything until Stiles says explicitly that it's his dad."

Peter grunted but nodded and stood up, snatching the book from the end table and walking back over to the bookshelf. 

"What are you doing?" Talia asked when Peter began scanning the rows of literature. The built in bookshelf in the living room held all of Peter's books from human laws, to his beastiaries. 

"Refreshing my knowledge on soulmate laws, and my right to custody," he said, pulling the book he was looking for off the shelf. It had every law and procedure involving minors, guardianship, and the parental and soulmate rights to minors. 

"We don't know for sure, Peter."

"I'd rather be prepared," Peter hummed. It was his job, as left hand and enforcer to always be three steps ahead of everyone else. When it came to Stiles, he wanted to be five. 

*-*

Stiles was sitting cross legged on the grass in the clearing, sketching in his nearly full sketchbook. Peter stretched his front legs out, lengthening his spine as he dropped his upper body down. 

He straightened, stretching out his back legs and yawning widely before shaking out his coat and trotting towards Stiles. 

Stiles glanced up and quickly lifted the sketchbook until it was hidden against his chest. Peter stopped, sniffing the air and tilting his head. 

Stiles blushed before shifting around, angling the sketchbook so Peter couldn't see it before continuing his drawing. 

Now Peter was curious, and he walked over to look. Again, Stiles made it so he couldn't and Peter chuffed, stepping even closer. 

"No, you can't see," Stiles said, covering the picture again. Peter nosed at his arm, pawing gently at the book and growling. Stiles turned his upper body away from him, cheeks burning red. 

"No, Peter, you can't look."

That got Peter to stop, his heart stuttering. Stiles took that time to slam the book shut and shuffle away, hiding it behind him. 

Stiles had called him Peter. Peter was currently in the form Stiles called Wolf. 

Peter shifted right where he was, crouching on his hands and toes, his legs bent under his chest. 

Stiles' eyes widen, mouth falling open. He glanced down for just a second before his hands flew up and he slapped them over his eyes, body stiff with uncomfortability. 

"You're naked," Stiles stated, heartbeat jackrabbiting in his chest. Peter drops one knee into the dirt and reaches his hands up to grab Stiles by the wrist, forcing his hands away from his face. 

Stiles keeps his eyes pinched shut, muscles stiff. 

"Stiles, open your eyes."

Stiles lets out an embarrassed noise, but blinks his eyes open. They drop and Stiles flushes and turns his head to look elsewhere. 

"Who told you?" Peter demanded. He kept a hold of Stiles' wrists, his hands in loose fists just under his eyes. 

"The tree did," Stiles said, sucking his lower lip into his mouth to chew on it, head still turned slightly to keep from looking at Peter again. 

"What?" Peter asked, shock loosening his grip on the boy. Stiles didnt pull away. "The nemeton told you?"

Stiles nodded, chancing a glance out of the side of his eye before resolutely staring at the trees, cheeks getting even darker in color. 

"You're really naked, Peter," he said quietly, swallowing thickly. Peter looked down at himself before sighing. 

"Stiles," he huffed. "Did you tell anyone?"

Stiles turned his head to look at Peter, shaking his head and keeping his eyes focused on Peter. Peter let out another sigh. He had to talk to Talia. They both did. 

Peter never heard the nemeton talk to him. The only people who could were druids, and if Sfiles was a druid, he was untrained, and that could cause a multitude of problems -especially when his powers begin manifesting. 

"Are you mad?" Stiles asked, chewing on his lip again and turning his head to the side, looking at the grass by his thigh. 

"No, sweetheart," Peter said, shaking his head and releasing one of his wrists to angle Stiles' head up. "I'm not mad, just surprised."

"M'sorry," he mumbled. Peter leaned forward and pressed his lips to Stiles' forehead, which earned him a stuttered heart beat and a sharp inhale.

"Lets go to the house," Peter said, releasing Stiles entirely and standing up. Stiles made a choked off noise and covered his eyes again. "Would you be more comfortable if I shifted back?"

Stiles nodded frantically, hands never moving from his face. Peter shifted, stretching his limbs and shaking his coat before walking to Stiles and nosing at his hands. 

Stiles pulled his hands away slowly, peaking out before his shoulders sagged and he scrambled to his feet. 

He put the sketchbook in the tin box and hid the box before following Peter through the woods towards the pack house. 

Peter was still trying to process what was happening. It wasnt often that someone got the best of him and knocked him on his ass, but Stiles had done it twice now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I made a little visual! Here is a [map of pack territories](https://pin.it/4OH6KNA) for you guys! I made it to help with writing, so I could be accurate when I wrote about the packs' territories and how far they were to each other. I hope it makes sense to you guys but it makes sense to me 😂 
> 
> Also, its not a secret that I'm not a big Scott fan -im still not sure if I'm going to put him in this book- but if you see, the Ito pack territory is in a town called St. Nonscott! I saw it in the town name generator and had to use it! 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think of the chapter! I absolutely love all of your comments and headcanons on what you think the characters are thinking or what will happen next!


	7. Chapter 7

Talia is in her office when Peter returns with Stiles at his side. His fingers hadn't let go of his fur since they left the clearing. When they make it to the foyer, Peter shifts between one step and the next, a hand dropping to Stiles' neck as he walks them across the entrance. 

Stiles tilts his chin up, resolutely refusing to look at Peter's naked body as they cross the living room. Peter snatches up an afghan from the couch and secures it around his waist before leading Stiles to the alpha's office. 

Talia looks between the two with shock and concern before its wiped away just as quickly as it came. Before them, the alpha sits -not his sister- and she takes in Peter's undress and Stiles' fidgeting hands. 

"What happened?" She demanded, standing up and rounding the desk. Peter sighs, but squeezes Stiles' neck reassuringly, glancing down at him. 

Stiles looks up at him, then over at Talia, swallows thickly and says, "I know you're werewolves."

Talia blinks down at him, then turns a sharp look at Peter, who raises an eyebrow and then nods back down to Stiles. Stiles huffs, folding his arms over his chest in an embarrassed defense. 

"The tree told me," Stiles muttered. Talia's eyes snap up to Peter. 

"A druid?" She breathes in shock. Stiles shakes his head, grabbing both werewolves' attention. Talia leaned down a bit, rump still pressed into her desk. "Stiles, why didn't you tell us what you are, if you knew we were werewolves?"

Stiles looks a little lost, glancing back up at Peter, eyes turning pleading. Peter nearly melted where he stood, all hard edges and jagged cuts of him wanting nothing more than to pull Stiles into his chest. 

"I didn't know," he said, and if he didnt turn his baby doe eyes to Talia right then, Peter would've dropped to his knees and whined. 

Talia looks ready to scoop Stiles up into her arms too, especially when Stiles' scent turns cold with anxiety, chest heaving a little in an effort to keep himself calm. 

"We're just trying to understand, sweetie."

Stiles just chewed on his lower lip, not saying anything else. Peter expected as much. He wasn't a talker, and Talia had been right about him being mostly mute. 

Peter still wasn't sure if it had to do with his mother or if he was just normally this quiet. A darker part of Peter wondered if his silence was because of his father, but he quickly pushed that away, instead focusing on Stiles, who looked all kinds of uncomfortable. 

Stiles didnt seem to notice -because his hands were hidden behind his arms- the flickering sparks like a lighter failing to ignite dancing across the tips of his fingers in his anxious state. 

Talia changed tactics a little, still leaning against her desk and leaning down a bit. "You shook your head when I called you a druid," she said. "You don't think you are?"

Stiles shook his head, bringing a hand up to press into the side of his mouth, pushing more of his lower lip into his mouth to gnaw on. The pacifying motion seemed to calm the little bursts of magic. 

"Did the nemeton tell you what you are?" Again, Stiles shakes his head, and Talia sighs a little. Peter thinks he may have better luck getting more out of the boy when they're alone. 

But they're not done talking to Stiles, and what Talia says next is the most important. 

"You know you can't tell anyone what we are? Not even your father."

Stiles nods, eyes wide. "If anyone finds out what we are, we'll be in danger," Talia continued, features grave. "Derek, me, everyone will. Including Peter."

Stiles looks up at Peter before looking back at Talia. "I won't tell," he says, voice barely above a whisper. 

Talia smiles at that and reaches forward to run her hand through the short hairs on Stiles' head, then looks at Peter. 

"Lets see what books we have for him," she said. Peter nodded before guiding Stiles out of the office. 

"Books?" Stiles asked when they reach the stairs. Peter had let his neck go when they reached the staircase, expecting Stiles to stay in the living room while Peter got dressed, but the kid followed him up. 

"To figure out what you are," Peter hummed, leading Stiles down the long hallway to the right, where Peter's room was. "The nemeton only speaks to druids, but you're adamant you aren't?"

"Doesn't sound right," Stiles frowned. When the two of them entered Peter's room, the kid looked around at the door. 

Peter walked to his dresser, pressed against the outside wall, between the wall shared by the bathroom and a window. 

There were bookshelves on the wall shared by the hallway, and the queen size bed sat pressed against the forth wall, a chest at the end full of extra blankets. 

Stiles walks over to the bookshelves. Most of Peter's books are in the living room. His books on law, criminal justice, psychology, his beastiary as well as books on mythology and lore. 

In his room, the shelves hold fiction, photographs, small memorabilia, notebooks and on occasion, drawings from Cora. 

Peter took the time Stiles looked at the shelves to slip into a pair of boxers and shorts.

"You didn't know you were anything but human before you touched the nemeton?" Peter asked, slipping into a shirt just as Stiles turned to face him. His cheeks turn pink when Peter lets the hem of the shirt fall over his stomach. 

He shakes his head, moving down the bookshelf to see what else Peter had.

"Come on, sweetheart," Peter hummed when he was fully clothed. Stiles walked back to where Peter was, allowing Peter to hold the back of his neck and lead them out of his room and down the hall towards the stairs. 

In the living room, Stiles sits in Peter's favorite chair, twisting around so he can look over the back and watch Peter lean down to read the spines of his books. 

"Do you think I can shapeshift too?" Stiles asked, chin resting on the back cushion. Peter glanced over at him with a small furrow to his brows and pursed lips. Laura called it 'uncle Peter's browsing face'.

"No," he hummed, running a forefinger over the spine of a faded leather bound book before pulling it from the shelf. "Its most likely you're some sort of magic user. Nemetons have an affinity for them."

He straightens, holding the book in one hand and letting it fall open against his splayed fingers. He keeps his eyes on the pages, flipping through the beastiary as he walks around. 

Stiles spins in the chair, waiting quietly while Peter sifts. He finds the section he's looking for and stops walking, finger following a line of text on magic users before lifting his eyes to Stiles. 

Stiles looks at him expectantly. Peter pulls his eyes back to the page and leans against the side of the couch across from Stiles, crossing his legs at the ankle before flipping to the next page. 

"I'll name them off, you tell me if you think it fits, okay, sweetheart?" Stiles nods when Peter eyes him again. Peter nods too, mostly to himself. "Alchemist?"

Stiles shakes his head. "Animist?" Again, no. "Archanist." No. 

"You religious?" Peter asked, raising an eyebrow. Stiles frowns in confusion, but shakes his head. Peter hums. "So not a Cleric. Conjurer?"

Stiles shakes his head again. "Elementalist, enchanter or mage?"

"No."

"Do you think you're a mancer?"

Stiles gives a small shake of his head and a shrug, not knowing what a mancer is. "Like a necromancer, or a pyromancer?"

"Nuh-uh," Stiles said. 

"Mentalist, mystic, shaman, sorcerer, warlock, witch, wizard," Peter lists. "None of them?"

Stiles shakes his head, biting the corner of his lip. Peter hums again, looking at Stiles as if staring at him for long enough will give him the answer. It doesn't, and Stiles squirms a bit. 

Peter uses his hand to shut the book with a loud thud, eyeing the bookshelf before walking back over to it. He knows his face is even more pinched than usual, and like before, Stiles spins around in the chair. 

There wasn't many supernatural beings that weren't written in his beastiary. Only the extinct and ones so rare they seemed more like fairy tales were left out. 

"Whats that one?" Stiles asked, pointing at the bookshelf. Peter raised an eyebrow, glancing at Stiles. He was pointing in a vague direction to about twenty books. Peter walks over to it, scanning the spines to see if he can distinguish which one has caught Stiles' attention, but after a second he looks back to the teenager. 

"Which one?"

Stiles pulls himself up so he's leaning over the back of the chair, one hand bracing himself while the other one stretches out. 

"That one," he said, voice a bit strained in an effort to keep himself from falling over the chair. Peter looks back at the books, then blinks when one of them shifts a little in its spot between two other hard copies. 

Peter glances at Stiles, but he doesn't think the boy even noticed. Peter sets his finger on the top of the book anyway, raising an eyebrow. Stiles nodded, dropping back into the chair.

Peter pulled the book out and scowled down at the cover. It was on the spark that makes beings supernatural. Peter scowled down at it, then looked at Stiles. 

"You sure?" He asked. He didn't see how this book would tell him what he needed to know, but Stiles' budding magic had been called to the book. Stiles only nodded, dropping once again into the chair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think Stiles expected Peter and Talia to make a big deal out of him knowing 😂 poor kid. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! It's going to get a little more intense in the next few chapters!


	8. Chapter 8

Peter read the book out loud to Stiles that afternoon, until Stiles' phone vibrated in his pocket. 

Peter paused, and Stiles scrambled to get the phone free from his front pocket without standing up. Once he does, he stares down at the screen, his scent souring. 

"Gotta go," he said quietly. Peter dog-eared the page before standing up. Stiles does the same, pocketing his phone again and chewing on his lip. 

"I'll drive," Peter hummed, setting the book down. Stiles followed him through the house to the front door, the two of them slipping into shoes before leaving the house. 

"Do you think I'm a spark?" Stiles asked when the two were in Peter's muscle car. He was a fan of the classics and had found a 1970 Dodge Charger in perfect condition. The edges were sharp, the black pain sleek and the engine loud. It being a stick shift further cemented Peter's need to have it. 

"Its a possibility," Peter nodded, waiting for Stiles to buckle before pulling out of the driveway. 

The book was on sparks, from werewolf sparks to aswang sparks. All different, but all being the only thing that made them supernatural. 

Alpha sparks were stronger than betas, werewolf sparks were stronger than magic sparks, and kitsune sparks were much much stronger than werewolf sparks. 

Stiles' magic had a sort of lie-detector built into it, or a fact finder. Peter read, and Stiles would comment if that was correct for him or not. 

They'd gotten halfway through the book, and it was looking like Stiles was a rare type of magic user. One that had no name, but was strong. Most people called these magic users Sparks. 

Their spark was so strong, that most of them didn't manifest as any supernatural creature, and couldn't be labeled as any one type of magic user. 

It also meant that Stiles was dangerous. He was untrained, young and Peter knew from experience training the weaker sparks of young werewolves, that he could be explosive if he didnt learn how to control it. 

Peter wondered momentarily why Stiles' spark hadn't manifested when his mother had died, or even earlier. But not much was written about sparks as strong as Stiles' supposedly was, so Peter didn't have much to go on. 

Peter had been to the sheriff's house once before, when dropping Derek off. He hadn't gone inside then, and he doesn't now. When he pulls up to the house, Stiles twists to click out of his seat belt, which had been installed to make the vehicle road friendly -something unnecessary for Peter. 

"I'll keep reading," Peter hummed, glancing at Stiles. "And we'll find you a teacher. But call if your spark gets out of hand, okay?"

Stiles nodded, hand reaching for the door. Peter reached over and ran a hand through Stiles' shorn hair, scenting the boy like he did whenever Stiles had to leave. 

Every time, Stiles would stop whatever he was doing, stand frozen and accepting of Peter's touch, with a pink blush dusting his cheeks. 

He does the same thing now, and Peter hooks a finger under his chin, forcing Stiles to look over. 

"I'll be picking you up from school tomorrow, so don't sneak off to the woods, okay?"

Stiles' blush deeped at being called out, embarrassed that he wasn't as sneaky as he thought. Peter had yet to have a conversation about the sheriff not picking him up, but he decided Stiles' spark was a bit more important. 

"Okay," Stiles said after a moment, not pulling his chin front Peter's hold. Peter smiles, squeezing his jaw once before letting go. 

"Good boy," he hummed. "Now go inside before your dad starts to wonder where you are."

Stiles nodded, head snapping to the front porch, as if he'd see his dad there, scent souring again before he jumped out of the car. Peter frowned at his reaction, and he stared at the front door long after Stiles had gone inside. 

*-*

When Peter sees Stiles the next day, he knows something is wrong. Stiles has his head down to stare at his feet as he walks down the stairs, and his body language screams negatively. 

Peter climbs out of the car, rounding the hood to meet the teenager on the sidewalk beside the passenger seat.

Stiles glances up when he gets close enough, and Peter's frown deepens when he smells stale blood. In an instant, Peter grabs Stiles by the cheeks and angles his head so Peter can see the dried blood caked to the inside of his left nostril. 

"What happened?" Peter demanded, feeling the dull throb of almost-pain rushing to his hands. 

"Nothin-" 

"Stiles," Peter growled in warning. Stiles' eyebrows knit together and he sucks in a breath. 

"Just a bloody nose," he said. Lie. 

"Someone hit you." Stiles' eyes widened and he sucked in a sharp breath before frantically shaking his head. 

Peter let go of his face, instead grabbing his arm and lifting it up, and shoving the sleeve of his flannel up to his elbow. 

"Stop," Stiles grunted. Peter didn't. He grabbed Stiles' other wrist and Stiles yelped, a sizzle-pop sounding as Stiles' hands sparked, like the shutter flash of a camera. Peter stilled, eyes zeroing in on it. 

Stiles sucked in sharp and short breaths, eyes tittering to the middle schoolers and parents around them. Peter did too, clenching his jaw before opening the passenger door. 

"Get in."

Stiles does as he's told, though he's teetering on the edge of hyperventilating. Peter slams the door after him before rounding the hood and getting behind the wheel. 

He's on the road seconds later, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. 

"Who hit you?" Peter demanded, trying hard to keep his wolf at bay. He wanted to rip into anyone who touched him. "Was it someone from school?"

He could see Stiles shaking his head from his peripheral and his hands tightened. 

"Your dad?"

That got a reaction, and Peter had to force himself not to turn the car around and head for the sheriff station. Especially when Stiles stiffened in his seat, scent turning acidic. His heartbeat stuttered in his chest. 

"He didn't mean to," Stiles said, voice brittle. Peter glanced over to see Stiles' brown eyes filled with unshed tears. Peter pulls his anger back and then pulls off to the side of the dirt road of the preserve. 

He puts the car in park and turns to Stiles, holding out his hands. "Let me see," he demands in a soft voice. 

At first, Stiles doesn't move -doesnt even look at Peter. Then, slowly, he grabs the sleeve of his shirt and pulls it up to show his wrist. 

He lifts his arm for Peter to take. Its red and angry with the first signs of a bruise being the dark splotches of purple at his inner wrist. Peter can't help but growl when he realizes they're shaped like the pads of fingers. 

"He didn't mean to," Stiles says again, a whisper. Peter pulls the dull throbbing almost-pain from him, ignoring what Stiles said in an effort to calm down. 

He had dropped Stiles off to him just last night. He had put his mate in the hands of someone who hurt him. Peter didn't know if he was more mad at himself or the sheriff. 

Because he had suspected the sheriff of hitting Stiles, had even brought it up to Talia. 

Peter sighed and leaned forward, pressing his lips to Stiles' wrist. He took the time to close his eyes and reign in his emotions. 

When he pulled back, he let Stiles take his arm back, staring down at his lap. 

"I don't want you going back there," Peter said. Stiles lifted his head to gape a bit at him. 

"But, what about my dad?"

"Talia and I will talk to him," he decided, putting the Charger in drive and heading further into the preserve. 

Stiles doesn't say anything for the rest of the drive, but he's anxious and scared and there's a magical trickle coming from him and assaulting Peter's senses. 

Peter reaches a hand over and grabs Stiles', squeezing his fingers reassuringly, even as he was plotting the many ways he could kill the human sheriff and make it look like an accident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Peter's suspicions have been confirmed!! Next chapter will be the confrontation, and it all goes downhill from there! What do you guys think?


	9. Chapter 9

Stiles sleeps in Peter's bed that evening. He's exhausted and emotionally drained. Talia and Peter had Stiles tell them everything. 

With a little prodding, Stiles did. He cried on the couch beside Peter as he talked about his mom's sickness, her decline in health and death. 

How his dad checked out, and Stiles was forced to clean and cook and care for them both at the ripe age of twelve. 

How his dad thrown himself into a bottle, and how the longer he drank, the worse he got. Peter had to dig claws into his palms while Stiles recounted how the sheriff would throw things in anger, grab him too tight and on one occasion when Stiles tells them he had talked back, the sheriff had hit him. 

"But it wasnt his fault," Stiles had said, nose stuffed and tears leaving wet tracks down his cheeks. "He didn't mean to."

He had looked so helplessly up at Peter beside him, and Peter hadn't known what to do. Didn't know how to calm his mate. 

When his tears had slowed to a stop and he was sagging in his chair, Peter had picked him up and carried him to his room. 

Now, Stiles was laying on his stomach, arms circled around the pillow he had under his chest and head. His flannel and shoes were on the chest at the end of the bed, with his phone and backpack. 

Peter scowled, arms crossed over his chest as he stood watch. The rest of the pack were out running the perimeter, the kids were outside, and he could hear Talia in her bedroom, getting dressed. 

Peter didnt want to leave Stiles here alone, wanted to stay and watch over him, so he didn't wake up alone after the ordeal he's had. 

But Peter refuses to let Talia talk to the sheriff alone. It was his job as left hand to handle any threats to his pack. It was his job to get his hands dirty when the alpha couldn't. 

But Stiles had been so adamant about the sheriff not meaning it. He didnt want anyone to know, didnt want his dad in trouble. The sheriff was grieving in the worst way possible, and Talia had decided it best to have Stiles stay here with them, until the sheriff could get help. 

Peter didnt want to ever give Stiles back. He didnt deserve Stiles in his life, no matter how hard it was for the older man to cope with his wife's death. 

"Are you ready?" Talia asked quietly, standing in Peter's doorway. Its nearing five in the evening, usually the time Stiles scurries home -his dad's shifts ends around 5, they find out. 

Peter glances at her before nodding. Instead of walking to the door, he makes his way to the side of the bed where Stiles is sleeping, sitting down on the edge and setting a hand on his shoulder. 

Stiles wakes up with a start, inhaling and blinking his eyes open. 

"Hmm?"

"We'll be right back, okay sweetheart?" Stiles blinks sleepily at him, not saying a word. "Laura is outside if you need anything."

"Are you going to talk to my dad?" Stiles asked, voice rough with residual emotion and sleep. 

"Yeah," Peter nodded, running a hand through Stiles' shorn hair. The boy drops his head back into the pillow, inhaling and shifting a bit.

"He didnt mean to."

"I know," Peter replied placatingly, scratching dull nails over his buzz cut. "We're just going to talk. And then we'll come back and the two of us can start learning more about your spark, okay?" 

"Okay," Stiles said, voice muffled against the pillow. Peter leans forward to kiss the back of his head before standing up and heading for the bedroom door. 

He shuts it behind him, then follows Talia down the hallway to the stairs. They take her car -a sun bleached blue Honda with school papers, toys and fast food trash in the foot wells of the back seat. 

Peter refuses to drive his nieces and nephew for that exact reason. His car was not a garbage can. 

They drive into town, the two of them not needing any help finding the sheriff's house. The sun is mostly set, leaving the sky in shades of blues and purples. 

When they pull into the driveway, the cruiser is already in the driveway. Peter forces himself to take a calming breath. He had agreed to just talk. To help John get help, tell him Stiles won't be coming back until the sheriff is better, for both of their benefits. 

Talia knocks on the door when they climb the stairs, and the two listen as the sheriff grunts himself out of the chair and makes his way to the front door. 

"Hello, John," Talia greets with a thin lipped smile when the door opens. "Can we come in?"

The sheriff doesn't have time to answer before Talia is stepping over the threshold, side stepping the man and making her way into the living room to the left. Peter follows, nearly punching the sheriff in the face as he passes. 

The house is a mess. Not in a way that proves the sheriff is neglectful. Peter can smell stale air, dirty shoes, spoiled milk spilled in the kitchen. He can tell the carpet hasn't been vacuumed in a while. 

On top of the stale lived in scent of the Stilinski home, Peter smells the sharp burning scent of alcohol, the sting of fear and tears and anger in the air. 

"Can I help you two?" The sheriff demands, offended that the two werewolves had barged in unannounced. 

"Maybe you should take a seat," Talia suggests. The sheriff glares at her. Refusing. 

"We know you've been hitting Stiles," Peter all but growls, and he's pleased when the sheriff's face slacks with surprise, his arms uncrossing. 

"What?"

"You gave him a bloody nose and a hand shaped bruise on his wrist last night," Peter rolled on, face set in a hard glare. "And I know that bruise on his jaw was you too."

The shock on John's face shifts to anger, his arms crossed yet again and his stance becoming defensive. 

"Where's Stiles," he demands. 

"He's fine," Talia interjects. "He's at our house with the other kids."

"Did you really think you could hide the fact you abuse your kid from us?" Peter asked, voice rough and stone cold. The sheriff just blinks at him, mouth gaping like a fish. 

"The really fucked up thing, is Stiles refuses to blame you for it," Peter continues, hands fisted at his sides to keep the claws hidden. "He keeps saying its not your fault, that you didn't mean to."

The sheriff has tears in his eyes, but he's angry, Peter knows. Angry and shamed and upset. Peter wants to push him further. 

"He just lost his mother," he bites out. "He needed you, and instead of having his last parent to rely on, he has to contend himself with an abusive alcoholic."

He knew his words cut deep, but that was his plan. Fuck John for laying a single hand on Stiles. 

"We want to help," Talia says, bringing the sheriff's attention to her. "You need to go to A.A, counseling. You're no good to Stiles the way you are right now."

She looks at John with sympathy in her gaze. Peter looks at him with disgust. This was why she was alpha and he was second. 

The sheriff sucks in a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. Talia presses on, voice soft and calm. 

"We have a guest room for Stiles to stay in while you get better. I think its best he not be here until you're back on your feet."

That gets a over wave of anger from the sheriff, his face hardening. 

"You're not taking my son from me," he growls -as effective as a growl can get with human vocal cords. 

"Its either this or I file for custody," Peter snaps. Sheriff's head whips over, eyes wide. "You forget I've got a bachelor's in law. I know I can legally file for custody as his soulmate. And from the evidence stacked against you, I'll win."

"This is best for everyone involved, John," Talia sighs. "Stiles needs his father, and that's something you can't be right now."

A small little sob leaves the sheriff's throat, and he drops into the chair, head in his hands. Peter smells the remorse in his scent, the shame and self-loathing. The pity he feels. Peter can only think 'good', nearly scoffs at the older man but doesn't. 

Talia sits on the edge of the couch closest to the sheriff and sets a hand on his shaking shoulder in reassurance. 

She doesn't say anything, and after a few minutes, she pats his back and stands up. "We're just here to help, John. We don't want Stiles to be without a father, but we won't allow him to stay here until you're better."

The sheriff says nothing, just cries silently. Talia walks towards Peter and nods for the door. The two leave in silence, and once outside, Peter can finally release his hands, flexing his fingers at his sides as he walks to the car. 

"I'll bring Stiles by when the sheriff is at work to pick up a few rhings," Peter says once they're halfway home. Talia nods silently. Peter just wants to get home to his mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! How is it? I've already got 26 chapters written out and I have to read which chapter I post so I remember what happened 😂 
> 
> Let me know what you think! Headcanons are always welcome!! I love love love reading all your comments!


	10. Chapter 10

Stiles cries when Peter and Talia tell him he won't go home again. They're thick tears with red splotchy cheeks and hiccuping hyperventilating. His magic expels with every sob, like sparklers falling from his fingers and sizzle-popping into nothing before they can burn holes through the couch fabric. 

Peter holds the teenager on his lap, arms curled around the boy and rocking him through his tears. 

Its only when the boy's reduced to sniffling against Peter's shirt that Cora finds the courage to walk into the living room, hands twisting together and eyebrows worried. 

When she doesn't get sent away, the youngest Hale pads across the floor and climbs onto the couch beside them and leans into Peter's side, Stiles' feet under her thighs. 

Peter thinks being around the pack will be good for Stiles. He needs pack, even if he's not a 'wolf. He's a spark, and like werewolves, he needs pack. Needs family. 

Its close to ten at night when Peter decides to move Stiles to a bed. Talia had already ushered Cora to bed a couple hours earlier. 

Stiles had been awake, but hadn't moved from Peter's lap for the whole two hours they'd sat there. 

Even now, Stiles doesn't move as Peter realists his hold and stands. He nuzzles a bit into Peter's shoulder as Peter walks him up the stairs and down the hallway to his bedroom. 

They have a spare bed for Stiles, but Peter doesn't think the boy should be alone tonight, so he tucks him into Peter's bed again, and then climbs in himself, the room dark. 

It's quiet. Peter knows the kid is still awake, and refuses to fall asleep until he does. 

"Peter?" Comes Stiles' soft voice. Peter hums, laying on his side facing the boy. 

Stiles rolls from his back to his side too, hand pillowinf his cheek. 

"Can I still talk to him?" 

It's asked with a wobble to his voice, and the scent of fresh tears. 

"Of course you can, sweetheart," he peomises, reaching over to brush a thumb across his jaw. "Get some sleep. We've got a long day tomorrow."

Stiles doesn't speak again right away, and Peter retracts his hand only for Stiles to snatch it up, holding Peter's fingers. 

"Whats tomorrow?" Stiles whispers. 

"We're going to grab you some things, and then we're going to learn how to control your spark," Peter sighed, squeezing Stiles' hand. "Now go to sleep."

*-*

The sheriff is gone when Peter pulls up to the Stilinski driveway. Talia had called the school, telling the women in the office that Stiles had come down with a twenty-four hour bug, and that he'd be back on Monday. 

Stiles twists his fingers with Peter's as they make their way up the cement path to the front door. He had given Peter the spare key he kept in his bag, so the werewolf unlocks it and pulls Stiles through. 

It still smells like stale air -like nobody ever bothered to open a window- and booze. Peter scrunched his nose against the smell before letting Stiles lead him upstairs. 

The second floor isn't much better. Stifling and thick with scents overlaying other scents. Even the smell of cleaning supplies doesn't seem to cut through it -just adds to it in a way that makes Peter breathe shallowly. 

Stiles lets go of Peter's hand when they get to the top of the stairs, and walks over to the door halfway down the hallway. The door closest to the staircase is the bathroom, and Peter assumes the other room at the end of the hall is the sheriff's. 

They'd only been living in the house for a little over two months, from what Peter remembers. How it can get this bad in that short amount of time is telling. 

Stiles opens the door, and Peter sighs in relief when fresh air cuts into the hallway. It has the smell of disuse still in the walls -from the house being on the market for years- but it also smells like Stiles -cinnamon and balsam fir- and there's a window open over the headboard of his bed. 

Peter shuts the door behind him, not wanting the staleness of the rest of the house to seep in. 

There's not much there, furniture wise. A bed, a dresser and a little desk with a worn out rolling chair. 

There's a closet in the corner of the room, and Stiles makes his way to it, pulling it open to reveal boxes tucked away under a couple coats and hoodies. 

Stiles reaches up on his tip toes and pulls down a duffle bag before walking it over to the bed and dropping it. 

The two work in silence. Peter takes care of packing his clothes -which he doesn't have much of- while Stiles grabs things he wants to take with him. 

They can fit everything into the duffle bag, and when they finish -Peter with the bag slung over his shoulder and Stiles with his pillow under his arm- they shut the door behind them and head down the stairs. 

"How about we stop for burgers," Peter suggested when they get into the car. Stiles' things are in the back seat, and the kid nods. 

They stop at McDonald's and Peter orders Stiles a double cheeseburger with fries and an oreo flurry. Peter doesn't get anything -not a fan of how fast food tastes- but he snatches a couple fries when Stiles is too busy with his ice cream. 

They make it back to the pack house, and Peter makes sure Stiles takes in his trash. He grabs Stiles' things and follows the boy inside. 

"Peter's back!" Vivian -one of the Hales' betas- calls from the living room. 

"Hello, pup," Vivian smiles, voice quieter now while she looks over at Stiles. Stiles blushes and waves before scurrying to catch up with Peter, who smirks as they climb the stairs. 

"Why'd she call me pup?" Stiles asked when they made it to the end of thd hall, where Peter's room was. 

Instead of going into his room, Peter directs Stiles to the door across the hall. "Its just a term of endearment."

Stiles makes a face at that, sticking close to Peter as the werewolf moves to the guest bed turned Stiles' and sets the bag down. 

"But I'm not a 'wolf like you guys," Stiles said. 

Peter smiles, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head. "No, but you're pack now, sweetheart."

Stiles grumbled under his breath in embarrassment, and helps Peter unpack his clothes. 

*-*

Peter and Stiles spends the rest of the day while the kids are away at school reading up on sparks, and other magic users. 

Stiles soaks in everything like an information sponge, and even asked to borrow the beastiary to read later. 

Sparks, the two find out, not only have their own category of magic, but can also perform other magic too. 

So far, Stiles has only been able to spark when he's upset or startled. They practice just getting Stiles to use his magic on purpose until Talia comes home with a car full of kids.

Derek sits on the back porch with his bag beside him. Cora and Laura are in the kitchen doing their homework. 

"Can we be done now?" Stiles asked, shoulders sagging forward. He hasn't been able to manifest his magic in any sort of physical form for hours, and the strain is wearing on him. 

"Yeah, we can be done now," Peter nodded, tucking the boy under his arm as they walked up to the porch. "You did good."

"Didn't do anything," he grumbled. Peter just smiled and squeezed him closer to his side.

"Its not going to happen in a day. Even werewolves have to learn to control their abilities."

At that, Derek looked up. He was still learning. Control was something he got down not long ago, but being able to shift on command was still an issue for the twelve year old. 

"I got your homework," the young werewolf said, holding out a navy blue folder with Stiles' birth name written in the top corner.

Mieczysław "Stiles" Stilinski. 

Stiles takes it silently before sitting down beside Derek. Peter ruffles their hair before walking inside. Derek didn't have many friends -being as quiet as he was. Stiles was just as quiet, and neither boy felt the need to fill in the silence with meaningless talk. 

They'd grown close over the weeks of Stiles coming into their lives, and Peter was sure now that the little Spark was living with them, the two would come to be great friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go lovelies!!! Let me know what you think!!
> 
> Who watched the inauguration yesterday???? I'm so fucking relieved Trump is finally gone, I was really expecting a tantrum and violence.


	11. Chapter 11

"Hunters are out tonight," Victor announces upon entering rhr psck house. He's naked, and when Peter and Jason shift back, so are they. 

Nakedness in pack -amongst all werewolves, really- isn't as taboo as it is for humans. Talia stands in the living room with her arms folded over her chest. Its late at night, but not as late as it shouldve been before the three of them came back. 

"Theres more than before," Peter agreed, growl on his lips. "They're searching for a fight, coming onto our territory."

"They're just trying to rile the pack up," Talia hums, handing over shorts. All three step into the material. 

"They should know Hale territory is off limits," Jason snapped -not angry towards Talia, but towards the hunters closing ranks on peaceful territory. Peter has to agree with his sentiment. 

Hunters were supposed to live by a code. To hunt those who hunt others. The Hales had no interest in harming their human counterparts, and hadn't laid a hand on anyone in decades -save for their own race. 

Beacon Hills was a safe place for both werewolf and human alike. 

"Theres nothing we can do without starting a war we don't need," Talia said. "From now on, no one leaves the house when the sun goes down. Don't give them anything to make them shoot at you."

"Being what we are seems reason enough for them," Victor curses. Peter clenched his jaw, arms crossing in front of his chest. 

"They'll pass through when they realize we're peaceful," Talia said. "But until that happens, there will be a six o'clock curfew for everyone. I don't want anyone in the woods when it gets dark."

*-*

When Peter finally manages to get to his room, Stiles is there, sitting on his bed. 

"You should be asleep, sweetheart," Peter sighed, exhausted from patrolling -and then running for his life when they ran into the hunters. 

"I couldn't sleep," Stiles frowned, picking at the side of his thumb nail. Peter walked over to him and sat beside him on the bed. 

"Why not?"

Stiles, at first, says nothing. He chews his lip and huffs, tapping the side of his fingers against his palm before finally looking over at Peter. 

"Somethings wrong," he said softly. "In the woods. It feels- feels dangerous and the tree doesn't like it."

"Hunters," Peter supplied. Stiles frowns at that, confused. "Werewolf hunters. We ran into them tonight. Seems they caught wind of our pack and came to check us out."

"They feel evil," Stiles says on a shiver. Peter curls an arm around Stiles and pulls him close to Peter's side, resting his chin on Stiles' head. 

"You're safe, sweetheart," Peter promised. "This isn't the first time hunters came looking for blood, and it won't be the last. But you have nothing to worry about."

Stiles nods, but doesn't seem to believe him. He's still fidgeting and anxious. 

"You wanna sleep with me tonight?" Peter asked softly, glancing down at him. Stiles nods again, and Peter presses a kiss to his temple before the two climb into bed. 

When they're settled, Stiles reaches across the mattress and takes Peter's hand, shuffling a little closer as they both lay facing each other. 

"Will they leave soon?" Stiles asked softly. 

"I'm not sure," Peter said truthfully. "But I promise, the pack is safe. You don't need to worry."

*-*

Peter was worried. 

Derek hadn't come home after basketball practice, and the curfew was fast approaching. He made his way through the woods on four paws, as silent as he could while he headed towards lookout point. 

It wasnr hard to pick up the scent of his nephew, and he followed it for three miles before he spotted the hunters, already gathering in a small clearing close to Stiles'.

Peter stopped, dropping to his stomach and listening. It didnt take him long to recognize the two men who lead the hunting party. Gerard and Chris Argent. 

The Argent name had been known by many for hundreds of years. Their speciality was werewolf hunting, but they weren't averse to killing other creatures who crossed their path. 

"Find the betas, I want one alive," Gerard ordered. Peter curled his lip in a silent snarl, and quickly took off, running around the clearing to avoid any confrontation. 

He finds Derek not long after, huddled against a fallen tree with his backpack in his lap and his knees bent. 

Peter shifted, dropping down to his knees in front of him. "Uncle Peter!" Derek gasped, jumping up and hugging him. Peter hugged him back before pulling away. 

"You were supposed to be home an hour ago," he growled. 

"I-I know!" Derek stammered, wiping at his wet cheeks. "I was going to, but then I heard the hunters and I got scared and I ran and my phone died. I was gonna go back to town when they left."

Peter sighed and shook his head, keeping half an ear on the hunters only a few yards away. They were still talking. Gerard was sending his men our in different directions to search the woods. 

"No, it's alright, you did good, pup," Peter said, squeezing Derek's shoulders. The young teen chewed his lip. 

"We have to go though," Peter said. "You need to shift."

"I can't-"

"Yes, you can," Peter interrupted. "Leave your bag here, don't worry about it, but we need to go, and you'll be faster on four legs."

Derek let out a whine, eyes searching Peter's face frantically before he nodded and shoved his things out of his lap. 

It took time -time neither of them had, with the hunters closing in- but Derek managed the shift, if only out of fear. 

Peter shifted too, and nipped Derek into a run towards Lookout Point. 

Derek stumbled a bit in his new form, but he learned fast. Peter couldn't worry about the tracks they were leaving for the hunters to follow, he knew they'd lose them in the mountains, and that was exactly where Peter was headed. 

Derek's wolf looked a lot like Peter's, with shades of greys and tans. Derek was more gangly and skinny, whereas Peter's was filled out. 

They kept a good pace, and when Derek grew more confident in his new form, they moved faster. 

It would take them longer to get back to the pack house going through the mountains, but it would hopefully be safer for them. 

Whoever they were looking for was still in the Hale's woods, and from what Peter overheard, the hunters weren't going to stop until they got what they were after. 

The hunters would take one look at Peter and Derek and kill them under the assumption they were the betas being hunted. 

And that, Peter knew, would start a war. Killing a left hand and an alpha heir would not be looked at or handled with mercy or understanding. 

They got into the mountains before they ran into the first set of hunters. Peter shoved Derek bodily into a bush before charging the first one. 

He was on top of them before either hunter noticed, his fangs sinking deeply into the man's shoulder. Thd man screamed and the second hunter fired a shot. 

Peter yelped az the wolfsbane bullet embedded itself into Peter's shoulder blade. He released the first man before charging the second one. 

Another shot rang out and Peter clenched his jaw against the pain of the second bullet lodged into his chest. He knocked into the human's legs, knocking him over before biting into his wrist, hard enough to hear the bone snap.

Derek rushed forward and scooped the gun up into his mouth before shoving Peter into a run. 

Peter panted hard as they ran, feeling the poison working its way through muscle and blood. They were close to two miles from home yet. 

By the time they reached it, Peter's blood was turning black and he whimpered with every jolt that ran up his legs from the ground.

He couldn't put much pressure on his right leg, and limped his way beside Derek. 

They almost ran into another set of hunters, but the two of them dropped low in the underbrush and waited for them to pass before continuing their journey. 

They just made it into the back yard, and Peter could see the pack rushing out onto the back porch, when he finally collapsed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've got drama! We've got angst! It's only going to get worse but I promise I left lots of room for Peter and Stiles' relationship to blossom! 
> 
> Just a heads up, I did tag this as underage, but Peter does not do anything sexual until Stiles is 15! I also tagged this as a slow burn for that reason!
> 
> Let me know what you think!!


	12. Chapter 12

Peter woke up to burning. His eyes shot open with a growl and he sat upright, claws and fangs extended. 

"Hold him down," Talia demanded, the alpha command filtering through. Peter could only focus on the way his shoulder and chest burned with a white hot fire. 

He was shoved down onto his back again, hands grabbing his arms and pinning him to the couch. 

The pain didn't last long, but it was intense, and Peter struggled to catch his breath afterwords. 

"Are you okay?" Talia asked. Peter looked up, eyes focusing in on his sister, who knelt in front of him. Peter dropped his feet ontk the floor, hands still shaking and breathing labored. 

"Where's Derek?" Peter asked instead of answering. 

"Here, he's okay," Talia smiled, running a hand through Peter's hair before gripping the back of his neck tightly. "He thankfully had good sense to bring the gun."

Peter leaned forward until their foreheads pressed together, breathing in deeply. 

When he pulls back, he sets his shoulders. "The hunters were lead by Argents," he informs the pack surrounding them. 

"They know we're peaceful," Victor growled low. The Argents lived not far from Beacon Hills. They'd been less than civil towards the Hale pack, but never openly hunted them. 

"They're not after us," Peter said, standing up with a little help from Talia. "They're hunting betas from another pack."

"I'll call around, see if anyone is missing pack," Talia said on a sigh. "Theres not much else any of us can do."

The pack left for their rooms then, all nodding and smelling relieved that Peter was okay. Derek stayed behind, looking guilty and close to tears. 

"Come here, pup," Peter sighed. It got Derek moving and he flung himself into Peter's chest, holding him tightly. Derek let out a small whine, burying his face in Peter's chest. "Its okay."

Derek pulled back and sniffled. He wiped at his eyes before giving Peter a weak and wobbly smile. Peter returned it before Derek turned around and climbed the stairs. 

Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair. "This is a mess," he breathed. Talia nodded, dropping into the seat behind her. 

"It won't last," she said, sounding confident if not a little resigned. "Either they find the betas they're looking for, or they chase them out of our territory. We just have to be careful."

Peter just nodded, mind already racing with extra protective measures for the pups and other betas. 

"Stiles was worried about you," Talia said. Peter glanced down at her, and she gave a small smile. "He wanted to go out and find you."

"Where is he?" Peter asked, realizing he hadn't seen him all night. 

"He's hiding in your room," Talia said. "I think seeing you collapse in the yard really freaked him out."

Peter sighed again before nodding. He gave her a nod before climbing the stairs. He made his way to the end of the hall, checking Stiles' room on the off chance the kid had moved, before opening his door. 

The light was off, but Peter could make out the form huddled under his blanket, shaking and sniffling. Peter shut the door behind him before making his way towards the bed. 

He sat on the edge, dropping a hand on Stiles' side. "Sweetheart."

Stiles' breath hitched, his body stilling under the covers before he unfolded himself and yanked the blanket down. Peter didnt have time to take in his face before Stiles flung himself into Peter's lap, hugging him with shaky arms. 

Tears wetted the shoulder of his shirt as Stiles cried, shifting around so he was sitting in Peter's lap and holding on for dear life. 

"Shh, its okay, I'm okay," Peter hummed, running a hand up and down Stiles' spine while the other one held the back of his head. 

Stiles just shook his head, hugging him even tighter. Peter just held him, nuzzling his cheek into the side of Stiles' head. 

"I thought you died," Stiles finally managed, voice muffled by Peter's shirt. "You were bleeding and-and you fell and wouldn't wake up."

Peter curled his arms around Stiles' middle, neither worried about the sticky blood on Peter's ruined shirt. 

"Then you started screaming."

"I know," Peter sighed, pressing his mouth to Stiles' hair. Stiles pulled back a little and Peter can see the red in his eyes, his cheeks pink and wet. 

Stiles looks down at Peter's chest, still sniffling as he pushes his fingers into the holes of the fabric to touch smooth skin. 

"I'm okay now, sweetheart," Peter promised, leaning forward to press a kiss to Stiles' furrowed eyebrows. 

"What was it?" Stiles asked softly. "The thing they took out of the bullets?"

"Wolfsbane," Peter hummed, letting Stiles continue touching his skin to pacify the teenager -even if it was getting blood on his fingers. 

"Its poisonous to werewolves," Peter said. "The only way to counteract it is to burn the strain out."

Stiles just nodded, chewing on his lower lip. After a while, Peter managed to get Stiles back into bed -sans his shirt because it was now covered in blood- before making his way to the bathroom to clean up. 

When he got back, Stiles was still awake, and he shuffled over the moment Peter laid down. The werewolf curled an arm under Stiles' neck and held him close to him, pressing another kiss to Stiles' forehead and breathing in his cinnamon and balsam fir scent. 

"Are you sure you're okay?" Stiles asked moments later, half his face pressing into Peter's chest, his arm draped snugly across Peter's stomach. 

"I promise, baby," Peter hummed. "Superhuman healing."

Stiles huffed a little, lifting his head to look up at Peter. "I still don't know anything about werewolves."

Peter smiles softly. Stiles had been around to see a beta shift and a full shift, and knew the basics, but there was still plenty the teenager didn't understand yet. 

"Well," Peter started, curling an arm under his head. Stiles rolled to his stomach, resting on his elbows in between Peter's arm and his side. "We can recover from most mortal wounds, and we age slower than humans."

"How much slower?" Stiles asked. 

"Human lifespans usually last eighty to ninety years, depending on health," Peter said. "Most werewolves live to a hundred and sixty years old, give or take."

Stiles eyes widened a little and Peter chuckled, using his free arm to brush fingers up and down Stiles' arm. "Kitsunes though -they live even longer than that."

"How much longer?"

"I met one who was seven hundred and three years old," Peter grinned. "And she was considered middle aged." 

Stiles let out a breath, brows furrowed as he tried to wrap his mind around that information. 

It was taking the kid a while to read through the beastiary, but he had come up to Peter multiple times with the book open to a page and asking questions. He hadn't gotten to shifters or spirits yet. 

Stiles drops down a little, arm back around Peter's waist as he dropped a chin on Peter's shoulder. 

"You're going to outlive me," he said softly, eyes downcast. Peter hummed, brushing his hand through Stiles' hair.

"Theres a possibility," Peter nodded. Stiles sighed and laid back down, pulling the blankets over the two of them. 

"If the hunters don't kill you, you mean."

Sometimes Peter thinks Stiles is too smart, too good at connecting the dots for his own good. 

Peter doesn't respond to that, just shifts to his side and curls around Stiles, comforting the teenager as they drift to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day! I've written almost 30! I don't know how many chapters this book is going to have but I'm not even close to finishing it so its gonna be long. 😂 
> 
> Its weird, because where I'm at in the book is so different from where you guys are, and I have to reread the chapter before I post it so I don't accidentally give something away in the notes. 
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think!


	13. Chapter 13

The whole pack keeps to the curfew the next few days. Talia has reached out to the alphas in the area and were waiting for them to get back to her. 

She's also spending time with the sheriff, getting him signed up for alcohols anonymous and greif counseling. 

Peter spends the days helping Stiles learn how to control his spark, and that keeps the young teenager's attention from the hunters that continue to stalk their woods late at night. 

Stiles has been a permanent fixture in Peter's bed, the boy claiming everything feels too dark and bad in the woods around them when it grows dark. 

Peter doesn't mind. He likes that his bed is starting to smell like his young mate. 

Its summer, and Laura's been taking drivers ed classes and has been begging Talia to get her license soon, and Cora is moving to forth grade in the fall. She's got her shift down, and spends the hot days as a pup, terrorizing the other pack mates and rubbing Derek's nose in it. 

Derek has been taking queues from Stiles in that department, and the two of them spend time in the back yard practicing. They've grown closer -like Peter had predicted. 

Peter looks out the window to see Cora playing with Laura in their other forms, Vivian and her mate Victor watching and cheering on the two. The pack doesn't like the pups outside without supervision even during the day now. 

Stiles is in the living room with Derek, the two of them reading comic books on the floor. They were currently arguing over who was a better Clint Barton. 

"Matt Fraction's Hawkeye was way superior to Don Heck!"

"Everyone knows the originals are always better," Derek growled. 

"Fuck the original!" Stiles snapped, making Peter smirk. Beside him, Talia raises an eyebrow at Stiles' language, but doesn't call him out on it. Stiles doesn't talk, so when he does -even if it's foul- no one has the heart to tell him to stop. 

"Don Heck's Hawkeye was a pussy and you know it! Matt Fraction's Hawkeye was badass and had a dog!"

Peter can hear Derek whack Stiles with the comic book. Its not long before they're wrestling on the ground with growls and grunts, Stiles' magic sizzle-popping as the two struggle. 

Peter returns his attention back to the mixing bowl, using the long handled spoon to stir the wet and dry ingredients together. 

Stiles' birthday is tomorrow, and Laura's is two days later, so Talia decided to give them a shared birthday party on the ninth. 

Peter's just pouring the cake mixture into the baking pan when Stiles runs through the kitchen. 

Derek is on his heels, growling after the older boy while Stiles giggles. The two round the island Peter and Talia are working at, and Peter has to stop short on his way to the sink to keep from running into his little mate. 

"Out of the kitchen," Talia calls. Stiles yelps when Derek reaches for his shirt and promptly zaps the werewolf before running out the back door. 

Derek's not far after him. 

"Did John get back to you about the party tomorrow?" Talia asked, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She was making meatloaf and mashed potatoes to reheat the day of thd party. 

"He said he'd be able to stop by between shifts," Peter hummed. They didn't want to completely ostracize the sheriff from his son, and had invited him to celebrate Stiles turning fourteen. 

Peter knew John was grateful for the pack's help, and for caring for Stiles. Peter couldn't stay mad at him when he saw the sheriff working so hard to get better, if only for his son.

The two had talked on the phone just the other day. The conversation was stilted and only lasted ten minutes, but Stiles had been so happy after hearing John tell him about the help he was getting. They decided to talk once a week while the sheriff went to meetings.

Peter puts the cake batter in the oven, and washes his hands. Stiles comes back inside, cheeks red from exertion and breathing heavily. The thick scent of cinnamon and balsam fir is stronger now with sweat, and Peter walks over to scent the boy, who jumped up onto the stool. 

Stiles grins when Peter ruffles his damp hair. Its starting to grow out, sticking up in odd angles when he first wakes up. 

The scrape-click of claws on the linoleum floor sounds and Laura is running past them, thumping up the stairs. 

Peter snatches up Cora before she can pass, holding the 'wolf in his arms. She's got long gangly legs that don't fit in Peter's hold, but she's skinny and young. 

She yowls in frustration at being picked up, limbs air walking in front of her and mouth opening wide. Peter scents her light grey cost before dropping her on her feet. There's a moment of vertigo before she's running up the stairs after Laura. 

"Are you excited for your birthday?" Talia asked Stiles, who was leaning into Peter's touch like a cat. Peter grins when the kid angles his head a bit so Peter's dull nails scratch near the nape. 

"I've never shared a birthday before," Stiles confesses. Talia smiles. 

The kid still doesn't talk much -he talks more to Peter than Stiles probably does to himself, if Peter's being honest- but he's opening up more. He talks to the other kids and Talia too. 

Peter hears Laura stumbling down the stairs at break-neck speed and steps out of the way just as the teenager throws herself at Stiles, wrapping her arms around him and nearly knocking them both out of the high chair Stiles was in. 

Stiles lets out a surprised yelp, arms and legs flailing to try and regain his balance. "We're birthday buddies now," she grinned, pressing her cheek into Stiles' and squeezing him so hard Stiles lets out a choked out whine as the air is forcibly pushed out. 

"Get off!" He gasped. 

"Let go of him, Laura," Talia chuckled. Laura did and Stiles took in a breath before shooting her a glare. 

"Awe, don't be like that, uncle Stiles," Laura laughed, messing up his hair. "You know I lurv you!"

Stiles shoves her further away, and she leaves, laughing as she goes. Stiles grumbles, patting at his hair to smooth down the bits sticking up. 

Peter ruffles his hair again once its smoothed down, but instead of a scowl, Peter gets a grin from Stiles. He smiles back before walking over to finish meal preparations with Talia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so not gonna lie Stiles' growing relationship with Derek and Laura makes me smile! 
> 
> Tell me what you think!


	14. Chapter 14

"Dad!"

Stiles jumped up from the porch steps where he's sitting with Derek, nearly knocking Derek's plate over in his haste. 

Peter keeps an eye on the sheriff, watches how Stiles doesn't hesitate to run into the sheriff's chest and hold him tight. 

John looks on the verge of tears, and Peter's hard glare softens a little. The sheriff wasn't a bad guy, he just didn't know how to grieve properly. He took his emotions out on his son, but he was a good man otherwise. 

Peter didnt think he'd be able to trust the sheriff to be alone with Stiles -too many human statistics on abuse in cop families- but he can't deny his mate the chance to be with his father. 

"You keep staring at him like that and you're gonna burn holes in his shirt," Victor commented, moving to stand beside Peter. 

Peter glanced over at him, curling his lip a bit. "Maybe thats my plan," he growls. Stiles is dragging John by his hand to the small food table on the porch, handing him a plate and bouncing on his heels. 

"So that look isn't just reserved for you. That's shocking," Mary -a beta a couple years older than Laura smirks. Peter glances at her and her smirk softens. "I've only seen him smile that big and get that excited when he's got your attention." 

Peter turns back to Stiles, seeing him smile with all teeth and telling John all about the presents he got the day before. 

Peter brushes the comments of his pack mates off, moving to stand by Talia, who's frowning down at her phone. 

"Its rude to be on your phone during a birthday party, you know," Peter hums. "Especially a double birthday party."

Talia glances up before pocketing her phone and sighing. She looks around the back yard at the pack and their guests. Stiles had invited two boys -Issac and Vernon. They seemed to know Derek from class, and had even gone to sit with him when they realized Stiles was no longer keeping him company. 

"Ennis is calling another meeting," Talia said quietly. Peter frowned at that. Having a meeting so close to the last wasnt normal, but with the hunter activity these last few days, it makes sense. 

"One of his betas was killed. Deucalion thinks he wants to strike back."

"Thats not smart," Peter grunted. He never liked the alpha, Ennis. He was all braun and no brain. He talked with his fists and never thought anything through. 

"What do you think?" Peter asked, watching Stiles sitting on the porch steps with his dad. Derek and the two other boys were close by, all talking while John just listened. 

"I think Ennis is going to do something that's going to get us all killed," Talia sighed. "I don't like it, I hate that the hunters can kill so remorselesaly. But I have to put my pack first, and siding with Ennis is going to put them all in danger."

"If Ennis wants to fight the hunters, let him do it on his own. Risk his own pack's lives. He doesn't need to being in the rest of us."

"I'll need you to be there with me," Talia said, looking over at him. 

"You know I'll be there," Peter hummed. "Deucalion owes me fifty bucks anyway."

That gets a chuckle from Talia, and Peter smirks, victorious. He had bet at the last meeting that Ennis would call the next one. Deucalion had his money on Kali. 

The day goes on, the kids all get a sugar rush from the cake they've inhaled, and the boys were playing tackle football. Cora, obviously, just had to join and was kicking all their butts. 

The sheriff had left an hour or so after he arrived to go back to work, and Peter could tell Stiles had really enjoyed his dad being there, even though it was a short visit. 

Peter was sitting on the porch steps between Vivian and Mary. Laura was in front of him, cheering Cora and Derek on with Victor. 

Talia had gone inside to talk more with the other alphas to set up a time to meet. 

"Go, Stiles go!" Vivian shouts, laughing and shaking her arms over her head when Stiles gets the football. 

Stiles has dirt and grass stains all over his clothes, and even got a bloody knee when he and Issac slammed into each other. 

Now, Stiles tucks the football to his chest and bolts towards the far end of the yard, Derek and Vernon -"it's Boyd, Peter. He doesn't like being called Vernon. Its a stupid name"- fast on his heels. 

Issac and Cora are coming at him from the other side, and no one looks like they're slowing down. It ends in a collision that leaves everyone groaning in a heap on the ground. 

"Oh dear," Vivian sighs, getting to her feet. 

"Its fine, Viv, builds character," Victor grins. The boys untangle themselves, all sitting on their asses and looking over themselves. Derek and Cora don't have a scratch, but the other three don't notice. 

Peter climbs to his feet when he notices Stiles' arm is scraped and bleeding, and blood is dripping from his nose from where he ran face first into Issac's forehead. 

"Come on, ice and disinfectant," Peter hums, standing over them all. 

Stiles is the first one to get to his feet, cupping his hand under his nose to catch the blood. "I thing you broge my nose," Stiles grunted, glancing at Issac, who was rubbing his forehead with a scraped knee. 

"I think you broke my forehead," Issac winced. 

Peter rolled his eyes, but lead the two inside. Boyd was a tough boy, and had brushed the dirt off his scraped knees before grabbing the football and jogging away to throw it to Derek. 

"What happened to you two?" Talia demanded when Peter lead in the two boys. The blood was running down Stiles' elbow now, dripping onto his shirt and the kitchen floor. 

"Just a little tackle football," Issac grinned, still holding his forehead. Talia got up from the kitchen table and gestured Issac to sit down. 

"Come on, sweetheart," Peter hummed, leading Stiles to the bathroom just under the stairs. It was where they kept the first aid kit for the human pack members. 

Stiles sat on the toilet seat while Peter got a rag wet to clean up. He handed a dry one to Stiles to hold to his nose, then got to work cleaning his arm and then his knee. 

"Theres no saving your shirt," Peter winced. Stiles frowned, looking down at his chest. 

"Thagts my favorite one," he whined, shoulders sagging. Peter smirked, continuing to clean his mate up. 

He applied a topical cream to the scrapes on his knee and arm, then grabbed Stiles' hand to pull the rag down and check on the blood flow. 

"Is id brogen?"

"No, sweetheart, not broken."

"Feels lige id is," Stiles scowled. The bleeding has mostly stopped, so Peter lifts the wet rag up to clean under his nose, getting his mouth and chin too before wiping his neck. 

Stiles lifts his chin up a bit for Peter, and the werewolf smiles at the submissive gesture, continuing to clean up the blood.

Once he's clean -as best he can be with the blood still trickling from his nostril- Peter rolls a couple sheets of toilet paper and tells Stiles to stick it up his nose. 

He does, and Peter chuckles before standing. "I think you'll live, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to bench you for the rest of the game."

Stiles sighs, but nods anyway. When they get back outside, Peter sits on the porch steps again, pulling Stiles into his lap and curling an arm around the teenager's waist. Stiles blushes and ducks his head, fingers brushing against the back of Peter's hand as they watch the other kids continue to rough house in the yard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I usually skip over the happy good fun times in my books, but I decided to give you guys pockets of it throughout instead of just diving right into the angst and death and stuff. 
> 
> Also, 30 chapters down and no end in sight! What do you guys think? Think I should just go and let the book end on its own?
> 
> Also, I might remove the selective mutism tag... Stiles is still selectively mute but its mostly just at school and around strangers. And I have him mostly with his father or the pack, so he'll be talking throughout most of the book. Let me know if you think I should do. 
> 
> On the topic of editing the tags, anything you guys want me to add so far? Or take off?


	15. Chapter 15

The alpha meeting takes place two days later. Ennis has it take place in the old saw mill, and Peter knows why immediately when he smells blood. Its fresh. 

The blood and gore pooled on the ground belongs to one of Ennis' younger betas. The scent has all the 'wolves on edge -including Peter. 

Deucalion, Kali and Ennis all brought their whole pack with them, and everyone is getting antsy. Peter can tell sooner or later the betas will lose their heads, and the alphas currently arguing in the middle of the mill aren't helping calm them. 

"They cut him in half!" Ennis roared. "They ripped his claws out and left him in pieces."

"Why?" Kali asked, a snarl on her lips. Peter never really cared for the female alpha. "What did your beta do to get on the hunter's radar anyway?"

"Because he killed one of them," snapped one of Deucalion's betas. Peter raised an eyebrow. This was why betas should not be allowed to accompany their alphas to alpha meetings. Especially under the current circumstances. 

"It was an accident," Ennis snapped, the same time Deucalion shot his beta a scathing look. 

Talia stood back, as calm and collected as she always is. Peter crossed his arms, leaning against the old mill generator, taking in the chemo-signals and every reaction around him. 

"We're not going to attack the Argents because your beta fucked up," Kali growled. "He killed one of theirs, they killed him. There is no need for more bloodshed."

"They've killed thousands of our kind," Ennis snapped. Peter scowled at some of the betas. Their alphas didn't have a handle on them, and there was a restlessness falling over the crowd. 

"I'm going after the Argents," Ennis growled, snearing at everyone. "Will you go with me or not."

"Not," Kali said, arms folded over her chest. Peter eyes the claws digging into the soft skin of her biceps. She never retracted them, and her toes were no different. Peter didnt even know how she managed it, but it sure made the alpha look unhygienic and animalistic. 

"Your beta was in the wrong, he got what was coming to him. Besides, the hunters were after your pack, not mine."

"Hunters don't differentiate between packs," Talia finally speaks, voice still and calm as the rest of her. Peter squared his shoulders when the packs turned to her. He stood just over her left shoulder. 

She turns to Kali with a calculated look. "Especially Gerard Argent," she reminds. 

"Starting a war is not in the best interest of the packs," Deucalion added. "It'll only lead to even more death and destruction."

"From where I'm standing, the death toll is higher on our side," Ennis growled. 

"And it will continue to rise," Talia said. "But if you start a war, there won't be saving any of us, Ennis."

"What kind of alpha are you?" Ennis demanded, taking a step forward. It was an obvious challenge -one that the rest of his betas followed. 

In an instant, Peter pushed himself off from the generator and stalking in front of his sister, eyes flashing blue and a snarl on his lips. 

"Ennis, don't," Deucalion barked. The tension between packs is palpable. Peter doesn't take his eyes off Ennis, even when Deucalion steps forward and holds out placating hands. 

"Its bad enough we're being picked off by hunters. Let's not start killing our own."

"Deucalion is right," Talia said, dropping a hand on Peter's shoulder. Only then does the young werewolf back off, sheathing his claws and blinking the glow of his eyes away. 

It takes Ennis a moment to do the same. 

"It is your right," Talia continued, looking at Ennis. "But the Hale pack will not back you. You'll be on your own in your fight with the hunters."

Ennis sets his jaw before turning to Deucalion and Kali. Peter already knows Deucalion's side is with Talia, and he steps back silently, standing in front of his betas. 

"I'm sorry," Kali said, though she didn't sound the least bit. "But I'm not risking the lives of my pack on some revenge mission."

"Fine," Ennis snarled. "Remember this moment when you come looking for my help."

Peter rolled his eyes as Ennis spun around and stormed from the saw mill, his pack at his heels. Kali followed him out of the industrial doors, muttering to herself and leaving Deucalion and Talia behind. 

Peter kept an eye on the beta that spoke out of turn. He didnt have the same views as his alpha, which could result in a nasty sift in pack allegiance if the young 'wolf were to convert others of Deucalion's betas to Ennis' cause. 

"So we're going to sit back and do nothing?" The beta asked. "What happened to looking out for our own kind?"

"There's a difference between looking after our own and needlessly risking the lives our pack," Deucalion sighed. 

Before the beta could talk, Deucalion sent them out. Once the betas were gone, and far enough away not to listen in, Deucalion sighed heavily. 

"Your beta needs to learn his place," Peter grunted, arms folded over his chest. "And you owe me fifty bucks."

That got the last of the tension in the two alpha's shoulders to melt away, and Deucalion laughed. 

"We should get going," Talia sighed. "Its getting dark, and I don't want your betas out when the hunters show up."

"They do seem to like your woods," Deucalion agreed, the three of them heading out of the saw mill. Peter sucks in a breath of fresh air, clearing g out the smell of blood and unrest. 

"The Argents have been hunting down Hales for generations," Peter grunted, rolling his eyes. "They're looking for an excuse to kill us off, and having a rogue beta on our land gives it to them."

Deucalion nodded on a sigh, rubbing his face with exhaustion. "I wish there was a way for us to find a way to live in peace," he confessed. 

"As long as they listen to Gerard, that won't happen," Talia sighed. "The current matriarch listens to everything he says."

"Gerard's a psychopath anyway," Peter said. "Even if we could get to the matriarch to sign a peace treaty of some sort, Gerard won't adhere to it." 

Both alphas nod solemnly, and then Deucalion smiles at Peter. "I hear you've found your mate."

Peter huffs a laugh and nods. "Not long ago, yes."

Deucalion smiled and clapped Peter on his shoulder. "I'm happy for you, pup," he said. 

Peter grunted, but couldn't help but smile back, thinking about Stiles. The boy was growing into his magic beautifully. He couldnt wait until the teenager was older. He wanted to show Stiles what having a soulmate was really like.

"I hope to meet them some day."

"You'll get the chance when his curiosity gets him in trouble," Talia laughed. Stiles had begged to come with them tonight, and had even tried sneaking out before Laura and Victor got ahold of him. 

"Sounds like a handful."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had to do some rewatching for this chapter 😂 wasn't a hardship I love me some Stiles, but anyway, here you go! 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think! Where do you think its gonna go, whats gonna happen? I'm sure all of you know what happens to Deucalion in the show, and I'm gonna stick pretty close to that but the Hale pack and Stiles are kind of stuck in the middle! Poor them. 
> 
> Anyway! Hope you guys like it!


	16. Chapter 16

Its June when Deucalion's pack is ambushed. Two months after Ennis' beta is murdered in the saw mill just outside of Beacon Hills. 

Deucalion had talked with Talia and Peter often about meeting with the hunters to discuss coexistence. Ennis' pack was still planning an attack, and Deucalion had wanted to talk with the Argents before any more blood could be spilled. 

Deucalion had spent a lot of time making preparations, and Peter thought it was a waste. No way was anyone from the Argent line going to willingly talk about peaceful coexistence with werewolves. 

Everyone was shocked when it was Gerard who took the extended olive branch and agreed to meet. 

"Be careful, Deucalion," Talia said, frowning at the older alpha. He nodded with a smile, a handful of his betas waiting out in the front yard of the Hale pack house. 

Stiles was nestled under Peter's arm, the boy too curious to go outside with the rest of the pups. He had taken to Deucalion with a smile when the alpha had introduced himself. 

Now, he was scowling at the alpha, clever mind picking up the conversation and filling the holes in himself. 

"I'm sorry I can't go with you," Talia said. Deucalion just shook his head with a smile, placing a hand on her shoulder. 

"You have your pack to look after," he said. "Your successor is still young, and your pups need a mother."

And then he was gone with his betas flanking him. Peter was glad to notice the rebellious beta was not amongst them. 

"Alright," Talia sighed. "Lets get the pack indoors. Its almost curfew."

Peter nodded, squeezing Stiles' neck before heading for the back door to call in the pups. Talia went to her office to make calls to any betas out in town. 

It was best to expect the worst, even if it was the last thing either Hale sibling wanted. There was a big chance that Gerard could double cross Deucalion and his betas, and if that happened, there would be no stopping the war that would ensue. 

Peter calls the pups inside while he stands on the back porch, locking the door when everyone was in. 

"I'll get started on dinner," Victor hummed, stretching his arms above his head as he passed Peter, on the way to the kitchen. 

"Ooh, can we have chicken nuggets?" Cora shouted, thumping down the stairs and using the railing to spin her into the kitchen too. 

"How about we reheat the rest of the lasagna from last night and we can do chicken nuggets for lunch tomorrow," Talia suggested. 

Cora's shoulders slouched, but she nodded anyway. Victor picked the dish out of the fridge and set it on the counter. 

"Alright, while we're waiting for food, I want you guys to go upstairs and get all your school work together," Talia said, dropping a hand on Cora's shoulder before looking towards the living room, where she knows the other pups are. 

"Tomorrow is the last day of school, so get all your books together and in your bags."

She gives Cora a pat on her back when the girl groans, and follows the kids upstairs. 

"I hope Deucalion can talk some sense into the hunter," Mary sighed, dropping into the stool at the island and dropping her chin in her palm. 

"Me too," Talia said, smiling at the beta. Peter could tell she hoped, but knew it was probably never going to happen. 

Talia then turned to the other betas in the room, her alpha face on. "If it goes wrong, we need to protect the pack. By any means necessary."

"We're safer here," Peter nodded, gesturing to the house. "We have tunnels leading into the woods and into town if we need, but the Argents have never hit us here, only picked us off when we're outside."

"Depending on how this meeting goes with Gerard, the curfew stays in place," Talia continued on. "They don't kill children, but I still don't want the pups out alone."

"Mom?" 

All heads turn to Derek, who's shifting on his feet and smelling nervous. 

"What is it?"

"Stiles is gone."

Peter's heart sinks like a rock, and before Talia can respond, Peter's storming from the kitchen, climbing the stairs and going towards the end of the hall where the two slept. 

Peter's room and bathroom are empty, and so is Stiles'. Peter growls and makes his way back down stairs. He catches his mate's scent in the living room and follows it to the front door. 

"You don't think he's followed Deucalion, do you?" Vivian asked, worridly following Peter. 

"I'll get him," Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair. 

"Be careful," Talia ordered. Peter only nodded before storming out of the house. He broke into a jog, following Stiles' unique scent towards the abandoned saw mill. 

Its still light out, the sun bleeding gold into the sky as it dropped behind the tops of the trees. 

It doesn't take long for Peter to catch up with the boy -even if Stiles was running, he was much slower than Peter. 

Stiles is crouched behind a tree, peering around it at the saw mill. Peter can hear talking inside, but the meeting isn't his concern. 

He makes his way over to the boy, who doesn't hear him until Peter is too close. He whips around in a hiss, eyes widening. "Peter."

"What do you think you're doing?" Peter demanded lowly. "Its not safe out here."

Stiles dropped his gaze, chastised. "I know, I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure the alpha was safe."

Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair. "If something goes wrong in there, you won't be able to help anyone."

Stiles frowned at him, but sighed defeatedly when Peter nodded for them to leave. "You need a little more practice, sweetheart."

Stiles sighed, but he allowed Peter to guide him into his side as they turned around to head back home. 

Stiles pulled up short suddenly and spun back around. Peter turns just as he hears the quick release of steam in the saw mill. 

Before Peter can grab him, Stiles moves back to the tree he was hiding behind. "Somethings wrong," he said, heart beat Jack rabbiting. 

Peter moved over to him, keeping a hand around his upper arm to keep the boy from running into something that could get him killed. 

Peter tilted his head, trying to hear over the loud noise of compressed air being pushed through a small opening. All he can hear is the sounds of a fight, and he can't tell who's side is winning. 

"We gotta help, Peter," Stiles exclaimed, looking up at Peter with wide eyes. Peter set his jaw and shook his head. 

The two watched as Deucalion crawled out of the mill, coughing and sputtering. Peter tensed, his grip tightening around Stiles' arm when Gerard followed him out. 

"Peter-"

"Shh," Peter hushed, pressing the boy closer to the tree. Peter's own heart beat was matching the speed of Stiles' as they watched. 

"You- you killed your own!" Deucalion said incredulously, voice rough. Whatever he inhaled smelled like a toxin of some sort, the distinct odor of wolfsbane coming from the mill. 

Peter watched as Gerard dropped the bat with what looked like claws to his feet and reached behind him. 

"They were sympathizers," Gerard grumbled, voice sounding both fragile and gravelly at the same time. 

When the hunter pulled his hands out from behind his back, Peter saw him holding two flash grenade tipped arrows, and he gripped Stiles tighter, curling an arm around his front and pinning the boy's arms to his chest.

A small noise fell from Stiles and Peter quickly covered his mouth with a hand, silencing him. "Shh, stay quiet."

"Don't do this, please," Deucalion begged, laying on his back. Gerard was standing over him, snearing like a werewolf. Stiles' breathing quickened and he pressed into Peter's chest. Peter just pressed them both harder into the tree.

"I had a vision of peace."

Peter pressed his hand more firmly against Stiles' mouth, dropping his head so his lips brushed against the shell of the teenager's ear. "Don't look."

"A little shortsighted, isn't it?" Gerard laughed. He dropped to one knee and brought both arrows down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada! Lol so in the show I thought it was weird how someone magically found Deucalion after the ambush and took him to Deaton's. Like, who did it and how did they find him? 
> 
> So instead of just leaving it at that I decided Peter and Stiles would be there. Also, Stiles running off because he's curious even though its dangerous? Yep. Obviously Peter's got his hands full with his little mate. 
> 
> Also, I never understood why Gerard killed his own along with the werewolves, and when I rewatched the episode he said they wanted peace too. 
> 
> That got me thinking that maybe Gerard thought those hunters were weak, were sympathetic and decided to kill two birds with one stone by bringing those specific hunters to the meeting. It makes sense to me 😂
> 
> Also, I think Victoria is 100% on board with everything Gerard and Kate do, but there's probably a lot of plausible deniability on her part so she can keep the matriarch title. 
> 
> Anywho let me know what you guys think!!


	17. Chapter 17

Stiles let out a shocked and frightened sound, the noise muffled into Peter's palm as Gerard drove the arrows into Deucalion's eyes. Even Peter had to stifle a whine. 

The flash bombs ignited and Deucalion screamed. The hairs on Peter's arms stood on end and he had to look away, jaw clenched and body rigidly pressed into Stiles. 

He pulled the boy fully behind the tree, body trembling. "Shh, shh, shh."

Stiles pressed his forehead into the bark of the tree and Peter tucked his own face into Stiles' neck. His hand stayed firmly against the teenager's mouth, stifling the hitching breaths of panic. 

"Shh, sweetheart, be quiet," Peter whispered, holding him tightly. Deucalion's cries tapered off, but neither of them moved. 

Peter could hear Gerard get back to his feet. Could hear Deucalion's heart still beating. It takes what feels like ages for Gerard to leave, and Peter doesn't move until he hears the sound of a vehicle starting and then driving away. 

Peter steps away from Stiles, moving his hand. Stiles spins around and flings himself at the werewolf. 

Peter holds him tightly, collecting himself with long even breaths.

"Stay here," Peter orders, steeling his voice. Stiles shakes his head when Peter tries to detach himself, but the werewolf manages and rushes over to Deucalion. 

There's no heartbeats coming from the saw mill, so he doesn't waste time checking on the others. The arrows are still in the alpha's eyes, and Peter knows they won't heal if they're not out. 

He grabs the ends and yanks as hard as he could. Deucalion wakes up with an agonized howl, his upper half lifting off the ground and claws flying. 

"Its okay! Its okay, its me Peter!" Peter called, dropping the arrows before grabbing Deucalion by the elbows. Stiles is shaking like a leaf, face pale, and magic sparking at his hands and Peter's worried the kid is going to pass out. 

"Stiles, sweetheart," Peter calls, cradling the injured alpha to his shoulder. Stiles' wide frightened brown eyes snap up to meet Peter's blue ones. "I need you to call Talia. Can you do that?"

Stiles just stares, like a deer caught in the headlights. "Stiles," Peter calls. Stiles blinks and he nods quickly, body finally snapping into action. 

Peter stays in the dirt with Deucalion as the sun begins to set. Stiles stands a few paces away, fumbling with his cellphone. 

Then the line is ringing and Stiles is having trouble taking in a full breath. 

"Breathe, Stiles," Peter orders. "Deep breaths, you're doing so well, baby."

Stiles looks on the verge of tears. The levie breaks when Talia answers, and before Talia can even talk, Stiles lets out a sob and instantly tries to replenish the air in a sharp inhale. 

"Stiles, whats wrong? Where are you? Where's Peter?" Talia demands over the phone, and Peter can hear the rest of the pack demanding answers as well. 

Stiles is shaking too hard, not getting enough breath in his lungs to form a sentence. 

"We're at the saw mill," Peter said, raising his voice a little. "Bring a car."

"Okay, we're on the wa-" the phone cuts out. Stiles' spark is racing up his arms now, sizzle-popping in the air, fluttering in sync with his panicked breathing. 

When Stiles realizes the line died, he shot a look to Peter. 

"Its okay," Peter promised. "They're coming, its okay." He doesn't know if he's talking to Stiles or Deucalion, or himself, but none of them believe his words. 

Deucalion is grunting in pain, and Peter can tell he's not healing quick enough. 

Stiles grips his phone tightly, his whole body trembling, and Peter wishes he could scoop the boy up into his arms and calm him. 

Its not long before Peter can hear the sound of an engine in the distance, and his shoulders sag in relief. Even Deucalion seems to sag a little against his chest. 

When the car skids to a stop, Talia and Victor jump out. They help get Deucalion to his feet and lead him to the car. 

The instant he's free, Peter rushes to Stiles and lifts him off his feet, holding him tightly. Stiles wraps his arms and legs around him, sobbing and shaking. 

"You're okay," Peter shushed, holding the boy and letting him hide his face in Peter's neck, arms curled around his shoulder. 

The two get Deucalion into the car, and Peter quickly slides into the passenger seat. Talia is in the back with the alpha, and Victor speeds down the dirt road towards town. 

Stiles stayed in his lap the whole ride, shaking in Peter's arms while Peter rubbed his back, hushing the boy. Stiles just grips him tighter, magic singeing at the car seat and Peter's shirt and skin. 

Victor pulls up to the animal clinic, and climbs out of the drivers seat. Peter stays still while Talia and Victor get Deucalion inside. Talia had called his pack on the drive over to explain what had happened, and a few betas were on their way. 

When the two of them were alone, Peter pushed Stiles' face out from his neck, making the boy look at him. 

"Its okay," he repeated, using his thumb to brush the tears from his cheeks. "I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay?"

Peter held onto Stiles' sparking hands, keeping them between the two and taking in an exaggerated breath. Stiles inhaled brokenly, breath getting caught in his throat. 

"Thats good, another breath, there you go sweetheart, you're such a good boy. Keep going."

Stiles continued to breath in fast hitching breaths, but as Peter breathed long and slow, Stiles' breathing began to even out. 

His spark starts to fizzle out, and his heartbeat slows. "Good," Peter nods, using a hand to wipe off the last of the tears. "You did so good, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you."

Stiles drops his head and leans forward until he's cuddled close to Peter. Peter holds him, the two of them staying in the car. 

By the time the other pack betas pull up beside them, Stiles has fallen asleep, and Peter rumbles depe in his chest, hands brushing over his arms and back. 

Talia and Victor come out a few minutes later and they drive home. Everyone is quiet, and Peter knows its to keep Stiles from waking up. 

They get to the house well after dark, and Stiles stirs when Peter climbs out of the car. "Go back to sleep, Sweetheart, I've got you."

Stiles does just that, arms and legs dangling at Peter's sides, and his head buried in Peter's shoulder. If Peter weren't a werewolf, he wouldn't have been able to carry the fourteen year old the way he was. 

Victor holds open the door for them and Peter takes Stiles upstairs. 

"We need to talk," Talia said quietly. Peter only nodded, making it to the second floor and walking Stiles to the end of the hall. 

He kicks open the bedroom door and carries Stiles to the bed. Getting the blankets down with all five feet and three inches of Stiles in his arms is a struggle, but he gets it and sets the boy down.

Stiles wakes up a little, just enough to help Peter get his shoes and jeans off before he rolls over and falls right back to sleep. Peter covers him up before moving towards the door. 

"Peter."

"Yes, sweetheart?" Peter turns around again. Stiles hasn't moved, but his eyes are open now, and his lower lip trembles a little. 

"Can you stay?" 

Peter doesn't hesitate to walk back over to the bed, kicking his shoes and jeans off on the way. His shirt is discarded before he slides into the bed, pulling Stiles into his chest. 

"Go back to sleep." Stiles nods softly, eyes already closed and breathing evening out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuuunnnnn!
> 
> Anyway, I got a thing for people telling Stiles he's a good boy so here you go! This is where the story starts getting good. And by good I mean angsty as fuck, so be warned!
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	18. Chapter 18

Peter slips out of bed almost an hour later, after making sure Stiles is sound asleep. He puts on a shirt and shorts before leaving the room and heading downstairs. 

He can hear the betas and Talia talking in hushed tones, which gets louder the closer to Talia's office he gets. 

"Is he alright?" Vivian asked the instant Peter came in. 

"He's sleeping," Peter nodded. 

"The poor thing," Vivian sighed, shaking her head. 

"Tell us what happened," Talia demanded, looking frazzled and worried and sick to her stomach. 

Peter told them what he'd heard in as much detail as he could remember. About Gerard killing not only his own men but the betas who came with Deucalion. How Gerard had injured the alpha. 

As he spoke, Talia's face grew more grave. Victor's eyes flashed blue in anger, and Vivian covered her mouth. Two other betas shift anxiously. 

"He's announced war," Victor gasped incredulously. "He wants it!"

"What are we going to do?" Vivian asked, turning to Talia. 

"We do what we've always done," she sighed. "We protect our own. Don't give the hunters any reason to come after us, and hope they don't show up on our door."

"And if they do?" Peter growled. "We've already seen how far Argent is willing to go to get rid of werewolves. Whats to stop him from burning our house to the ground?"

"We have pack lands in Utah," Talia said. "If it comes to it, we'll leave."

"Leave our home?" Victor blinked. 

"For a while, yes," Talia nodded. "The hunters don't know about the tunnels, or the vaults. If worse comes to worse, we'll go underground and wait until its safe to leave Beacon Hills.

"Whatever Gerard is planning isn't going to be good. Starting tomorrow, we're going to start training, planning and packing for the worst."

"What about the other packs?" Vivian asked. "Ennis and Kali and Deucalion?"

"Deucalion is still recovering," Talia said. "When he is fit to travel, he and his pack will most likely leave as well."

"Kali and Ennis will most likely stay and fight," Peter huffed. "They're too prideful to know when the risk isn't worth it."

That night, after taking a shower to wash the blood and dried bodily fluid from his skin, he crawls into his bed. 

Stiles wakes with a sharp inhale, but Peter rumbles deep in his chest, soothing the boy back to sleep before he can even blink his eyes open. 

*-*

The next couple days, Stiles is silent. He doesn't say a word to anyone, even when Talia brings all the pups into the living room to explain to them what's happening. 

Cora, Derek and Stiles are in Peter's care to train and prepare for whatever may come. Laura, Mary and a seventeen year old, Mark will train with the adult betas. 

They'll have daily drills over the summer until everything runs like a smooth oiled machine. 

Stiles barely touches his food the day after the ambush, and Peter can't blame him. Being human and witnessing something so traumatic -Peter was surprised he was doing even slightly as well as he was. 

Derek is tasked with shifting, Cora is learning to defend herself, and Stiles spends the first couple days of his summer break reading every book on magic Peter owns. 

Everyone is working hard, and by the end of the week, Talia comes to them with news. 

"Deucalion is permanently blind," she said, causing the betas around her to gasp. It was unheard of for a werewolf -especially an alpha- not to heal from wounds. "Whatever weapon Gerard used was laced with wolfsbane. There was nothing they could do."

Peter folded his arms, leaning against the kitchen island. 

"Thats not all," Talia said. "One of his betas challenged him, and he had to put him down."

Again, the betas around the room gasped. Alphas killing their betas was unheard of. Even when betas challenged their alphas, the alphas usually lost -on account of old age or sickness. 

When an alpha loses their beta, there's a pain so intense its like the alpha is dying right along with them. The pack bond snapping is painful for any werewolf, but especially for an alpha. 

No one knew what happened if an alpha took his own beta's life, but Peter assumed Deucalion was in agony. 

"Whats the world coming to?" Victor demanded, running fingers through his dark hair. "We have psychopathic hunters coming out of the wood work, and dissention in the packs. For goddess' sake, we're teaching pups how to defend themselves in their own homes!"

"Victor, please," Talia sighed. "Lower your voice."

"We just have to work with what we've got," Peter said. "Life isn't fair, and it won't be any fairer if we sit around and whine about it. The best we can do is prepare for the worst case scenario."

And so it went for two weeks. Peter trained the pups, Talia with the adults, and every day they ran drills on different scenarios.

The curfew was still at six, and the house was locked up the instant it was dark out. 

Stiles didn't leave on his own anymore either. He was throwing everything he had into his magic, reading until the early morning hours and during meal times. 

He practiced so much, that Peter had to force him to stop. The kid hadn't said more than five words to anyone since the ambush, but the instant Peter slapped the book in his lap shut, Stiles jumped up. 

"Why'd you do that?" He snapped. Peter raised an eyebrow, but took the book anyway. 

"You're wearing yourself out, Stiles."

"M'fine," Stiles grumbled. Peter set the book down on the coffee table before sitting down beside it. Stiles dropped his eyes to their feet. 

"You're exhausted," Peter corrected. Even as he said it, Stiles stifled a yawn. "You're overworking yourself."

"I'm practicing," Stiles said. "Like you said."

Peter sighed, reaching out to grab Stiles by the hands and tugging a little until Stiles looked up at him. 

"You need to take a break," he said. "The other pups take breaks to play and sleep. You're not an exception."

"I can't take breaks," Stiles said. Peter tilted his head to the side, silently urging him to explain himself. Stiles chewed on his lip, dropping his gaze again. 

"I couldn't help," he finally said. His shoulders curved forward and his head dropped. "I couldn't control my magic enough to stop the hunter from hurting the alpha."

"Oh, sweetheart," Peter sighed. 

"You said so yourself, I can't help anyone if anything goes wrong," Stiles continued. "I want to help." 

Peter stood up and sat down beside Stiles, pulling the boy onto his lap -long limbs and all. 

"Its okay that you're not a master magic user," he promised. "You're not learning to defend the whole pack. You're learning to protect yourself. The pack works together. You can't push yourself to be the sole protector when you've got everyone else in the pack right beside you."

"Deucalion had pack beside him," Stiles muttered. Peter nodded, wrapping his arms around Stiles' middle.

"He did," Peter agreed. "But we're looking at worst case scenarios. They're not going to catch us off guard the same way."

Stiles doesn't say anything to that, just leans into Peter's chest and sighs. Peter holds him tightly, leaning back himself until his back is pressed into the couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is more of a filler chapter! We're working our way up to alpha packs and relationship building! 
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	19. Chapter 19

"I think it would be good for the pups to go out," Peter said the next day. He's standing in Talia's office with his arms folded and his shoulder leaning into the doorframe. Talia frowns in confusion. 

"The pups are exhausted," Peter continued. "They've been working really hard these last two weeks. Cora is more cranky than usual, and the boys look like they're going to fall over any minute."

"What do you suggest we do?"

"Woodland pond is only a mile and a half away," Peter said. "We can take the pack, just have a day to be a pack, have fun."

Talia silently mulled it over before sighing and nodding. 

"Okay, we can for a few hours. We'll have to make sandwiches."

"Already on it," Peter smirked before leaving the office. 

*-*

It takes close to two hours to get the pack all together and packed into the two vehicles. Victor is sitting in the passenger seat of Peter's classic Dodge Charger, and the back seat has Laura, Derek, Stiles and Cora all bunched together and grumbling about elbows and lack of breathing room. 

Talia's car takes the rest of the pack, who are packed in just as tightly, and they drive down the dirt path that winds through the preserve until they reach the pond. 

Woodland pond is just shy of being big enough to be a lake, and its secluded. None of the Beacon Hills residence ventures this far to use the pond on hot days for fear of the local 'wolf' population, so its the perfect place for the pack to unwind. 

Cora and Laura race to the water with shrieks and giggles, and Victor is right on their tails. Peter grins, carrying the cooler packed full of drinks and sandwiches. 

Stiles has an arm full of towels, and Talia is carrying a couple bags of chips and the sunscreen. None of the werewolves need it, but Stiles is pale and burns easy in the summer sun. 

When Peter jumps into the water, it's an uncomfortable temperature -its just cold enough to keep the pack chilled. 

In the middle of the pond is a small wooden raft. Victor swims Cora out to it, and Peter grins when Derek cannonballs off it with a shout. 

"Coming sweetheart?" Peter asked, turning to Stiles, who is standing in water up to his thighs. His arms are held awkwardly at his sides, the water much colder to him than the 'wolves. 

Stiles wades further into the water, his stomach sinking in when the water lapped over sensitive skin, and he lets out a breath. "S'cold."

"Come over here and I'll warm you up," Peter hummed. He's up to his neck in the water, and knows Stiles would be fully submerged at that point. 

The boy blushed a bit, but resolutely took a few more steps in. He's up to his belly button when Laura runs up behind him and hooks her arms under his. 

Stiles' eyes widen and he barely has a chance to scream "no!" before Laura throws him in. The whole pack laughs, and even Peter can't help chuckling when Stiles surfaces, sputtering and gasping. 

He shoots Laura a glare, but the teenager just continues laughing. "Dont look at me like that, I was helping."

Stiles said nothing, but he waded the rest of the way to Peter, who was still chuckling as he held Stiles' arm. 

"Wanna go to the dock?" Peter asked. Stiles nodded, his hair plastering to his head. Peter grinned and ruffled it before the two of them swam out. 

Victor hauls Stiles onto the dock with ease, and Peter pulls himself up, shaking his head a bit to lose some of the water in his hair. 

"Biggest splash wins," Derek grins, looking to Stiles with a challenge in his eyes. 

"Okay," Stiles nods, a small grin on his face. Derek takes a running start, throwing himself off the dock and curling his legs up into his chest. Stiles jumps in when Derek surfaces. 

The day goes on like this, the pups playing, the betas swimming and everyone laughing. 

Peter even joins in a game of chicken or two. He gets Cora on his shoulders, and across from him, Victor has Derek. 

There are shouts from around them, urging Cora to fight dirty, yelling at Derek to just push the girl over. 

Peter whoops when Cora manages to shove just hard enough for Derek to fall back too far to right himself. Both Derek and Victor fall into the water. 

Peter lifts both hands in the air, Cora mirroring him. Then Peter grabs Cora by her knees and flings her off his shoulders. She lands with a shout and a splash. 

"Who's next?" Peter asked. 

"I want Stiles," Laura grins, already climbing onto Victor's shoulders. 

Before Stiles can really object, Talia picks him up and drops him on Peter's shoulders. Stiles curls his legs under Peter's arms, feet hooking behind his back and hands gripping Peter's head. 

"This's no fair," Stiles mumbled, even as Laura and Victor advanced. 

Laura and Stiles lock arms, each holding the other's elbows. 

"Three, two, one, go!" Vivian shouted. 

Stiles grunted when Laura shoved, and he nearly slipped off before he quickly righted himself. 

"Oh, come on, you're stronger than that!" Laura laughed, shoving Stiles' arms away. Peter grinned up at them, everyone laughing. 

The next time Stiles went to shove at her, he used his spark, zapping the girl and using a bit of force to knock her back. 

Peter smirked and reached his own hands out to shove at Victor. The two went down and Stiles grinned, hands dropping back to Peter's head. 

"You cheated!" Laura gasped, surfacing seconds later. 

"You cheated first," Stiles countered. Peter laughed before throwing Stiles off his shoulders. He landed with a splash behind the werewolf, and when he surfaced, he glared at him. 

The pack took a break from their swimming to eat lunch, and Peter pulled Stiles between his legs. Stiles' teeth clattered loudly, and he had a towel wrapped around his shoulders. 

Peter rubbed his arms while he hate, trying to warm him up a little while the pack talked and ate. 

"You're getting better at your magic, Stiles," Mary grinned, taking a bite of her sandwich. Stiles blushed and dipped his head before muttering an embarrassed thank you.

"What all can you do now?" Vivian asked. Peter knew what Stiles could do with his little spark, and he smirked proudly over Stiles' shoulders even as Stiles shrugged a little. 

He reverted back to silence when embarrassed, so Peter hummed. "He's got energy down, and is working his way through natural elements." 

Even with only a month and a half of practicing -two of those weeks being where Stiles pushed himself hardest- he was still learning rapidly. Far more rapidly than any other fledgling magic user Peter's ever met. 

Most couldnt progress to the stage Stiles was at in a year, let alone a month. Peter places his lips to the back of Stiles' head and revels in the stutter of his heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We got a pack day! I didn't mean for Laura and Stiles to get the relationship they have but I absolutely love it! Laura is the big sister Stiles never knew he wanted and he hates it. 
> 
> Derek and Stiles never really become friends in fics I've read, they're always either dating or hate each other, so I wanted to have them really care for each other. 
> 
> And of course there's Cora, but Stiles is at the age where younger girls aren't really interesting, so while they have a relationship, its not as solid as the ones Stiles has with Laura and Derek. 
> 
> And I'm absolutely obsessed with Talia, like she's such a good alpha and mom and I didn't even mean to write her like that! 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think! The next chapter is gearing up for some bad vibes.


	20. Chapter 20

The peace lasts for another month before news of an alpha killing his whole pack reaches the Hales. 

Stiles is outside with Derek and Cora, both of them fully shifted and trying to dodge Stiles' magical advances. 

Peter's on the porch, watching the pups when he hears the clatter of dishes in the kitchen. 

The pups stop and look over, but Peter shakes his head, silently telling them to leave it before walking inside. 

Talia is crouching down to pick up a broken bowl, and Peter can tell she's shocked and agitated. 

"What is it?" Peter asked when Talia straightened with broken bowl pieces in hand. She dumped them into the trash before turning to Peter. 

She looks frightened, and Peter drops the left hand act and steps forward, worry taking over for his sister. 

"Deucalion's gone feral."

"What?" Peter breathes. He hasn't quite processed what Talia's said, but his body stills and it feels like he can't catch a breath. 

"He murdered his whole pack," Talia continued, her hands shaking a bit. "Everyone."

"Fuck," is all Peter can say. He runs a hand through his hair, heaving in a breath to try and collect himself. "You don't think he'd come here, do you?"

Deucalion's pack is closest to the Hale territory, being in the next town over. Canaan was roughly seventy miles away. Deucalion had proven -even in his right mind- that he could cross that distance quickly. If he was feral...

"I don't know," Talia shook her head, leaning against the counter and holding her forehead. "I never would've expected Deucalion to go feral."

"Do you think it had to do with his injury not healing?"

It was the only thing Peter could really think would cause the level-headed peacekeeping alpha werewolf to flip his switch so fast. 

"I don't know," Talia confessed. "But his second had been keeping me informed on his recovery. After killing his beta, Deucalion seemed off. We just assumed it was because of the bond breaking, on top of losing his sight."

"You know we're going to have to prepare for this too," Peter sighed. "Its one thing to train for a hunter attack, its something completely different defending the pack from a feral alpha."

Talia sighed. "I know," she said, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter. "Everything is just so messed up."

"We'll be fine," Peter said, looking out the window to make sure the pups are still practicing. 

Stiles is on his back, limbs flailing under two 'wolves, who are pinning him down. 

"Maybe we should leave," Talia sighed, looking out at the kids too. "Go to Utah and start fresh."

"Its your decision," Peter said. "You know the pack will follow you anywhere. And I'll back you, whatever you decide."

Talia smiled over at him, curling an arm around his neck and pulling him into her side. Peter let her, let her scent him before she walked to her office and shut the door. 

Peter sighed before walking back outside. "Lessons done, lets go inside and watch TV."

The pups scrambled off of Stiles, stepping on him and making the kid curl in on himself with a groan. Derek and Cora skittered past Peter inside as the older werewolf walked down the steps to help Stiles up. 

"Come on, sweetheart," Peter grinned, tucking the boy under his arm and leading him up the porch steps. "I'm in the mood to cuddle."

Stiles blushed, but grinned up at Peter, curling an arm around Peter's torso. 

In the living room, Peter got Netflix up and running by the time the other two ran down the stairs, dressed in soft clothes and jumping onto the couch. 

Stiles was squished between the arm rest and Peter, his legs draped over the werewolf's lap. They had a blanket draped over themselves, and when the other pups got on, Peter threw the rest of the blanket over them before clicking on a TV show about kids from the 80s, telepathic girls and monsters. 

At some point, Stiles drops his head on Peter's shoulder, sighing contently and settling against him. Peter smiled and dropped a kiss to his hair, which was growing out quite a bit. 

It grows dark, and Mary, Laura and Mark join them in the living room. Laura doesn't pass up the opportunity to tease Stiles though, and Stiles is bright pink and practically burying his head under the blankets. 

Most of her quips are related to Stiles' relationship with Peter, and calling the young spark an uncle, and generally just giving him shit. 

Peter hums, pulling Stiles closer and kissing his blushing cheek with a smile. 

"Awe, how cute!"

"Shut up, Laura," Stiles finally snaps, but he's way too embarrassed for the demand to be sharp. Laura just laughs and makes kissy faces from the opposite couch. 

Stiles pulls his hand free from the confines of the blanket and Laura yelps when he shocks her from his spot on Peter's lap. 

Satisfied, Stiles settles back into Peter, and they continue watching the show. Peter can't stay focused on it, his mind shifting to Deucalion and the hunters. 

He doesn't know what the right call would be. He wouldn't know if he'd be able to make the call. Deucalion had been good friends with Talia and Peter's parents when they were alive, and when they died and Talia was forced to pick up the pack, Deucalion had been right beside her and helped her grow into her roll as an alpha. 

Peter had always saw Deucalion as an extention of the pack, an uncle of sorts to the two Hale siblings. 

To hear he had gone feral and killed his whole pack -Peter can't believe it. He can't seem to connect the two. 

The world is fucked up, and Peter doesn't know what to do to make their little part of it better. He doesn't know whats going to happen, and he hates that there are so many things that can. 

Peter can't seem to come up with enough scenarios and plans to cover all the bases, and its like he's grasping at straws, trying desperately to stay afloat with a torn inflatable tube.

"You okay?" Stiles whispered, bringing Peter back to the living room. Peter glances over at the boy, Stiles' features conveying his worry. 

Peter forces a smile and nods, running his hand down Stiles' cheek before pinching his jaw. "I'm fine, sweetheart." 

Stiles frowned a little, and Peter knew he didnt believe him, but Peter just tightened his arms around the boy. Stiles settled back against him, his hands catching Peter's to play with his fingers. 

Peter smiled a little, kissing his cheek as Stiles ran the pads of his thumbs along Peter's palm, up his fingers before returning to the bottom of his hand again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go! Its another one of those filler chapters, but I hope you guys like it! Next chapter is full of birthdays and cuddles so let me know what you think!
> 
> Also, I'm leaving it up to you guys, but would you want a double post today, or wait until tomorrow for the next chapter? I won't post double very often, but I'm close to 40 chapters deep so I can! 
> 
> Friendly reminder. I absolutely love reading all of your comments! Especially the paragraphed ones about the characters or what you guys thinks gonna happen, it makes me really happy!!


	21. Chapter 21

Stiles and Derek start high school that fall. Laura finally got her license and Talia lets her use the car to drive to and from school -on the condition that she take Stiles and Derek too. 

As the weather changes, the hunters grow quiet. News of the feral alpha has spread to all four corners of California, and it seems the Argents are more afraid of Deucalion than they are of the Hales. 

Talia still keeps the curfew, and Peter has to give his sister her due. She's juggling protecting her pack, being a mother, keeping up the preserve ranger facade, and also continuing to help the sheriff in his recovery. 

Him and Stiles talk frequently, and have set up a schedule to call every Tuesday and Thursday. On the weekends, John is invited for dinners -if he's not working. 

In October, they celebrate Peter's twenty-forth birthday. Talia makes chocolate cake and they get a gallon tub of cookie dough ice cream. He gets home made gifts from the pups, and the older betas get him books on lore and mythology. 

Stiles' gift though, is his favorite. The wrapping paper is poorly done, and he uses way too much tape, but when Peter finally gets it open, he can't help but pull the boy into his lap and scent him happily, a deep rumble vibrating in his chest. 

Stiles blushes at the affection, asking softly, "do you like it?"

"I love it sweetheart," Peter grinned, rubbing his stubbled cheek against Stiles' neck and holding him tight. 

Stiles was getting better at his magic, and had mastered mage magic a few weeks prior. He was now working on his mancer magic, since it was closest to mage magic. 

He had made Peter a triskelion disk from stone. Peter had told him about how when the werewolf was young, his father had given him one to help focus on his shift, and how it was lost when his parents died. 

This one was a little odd. The shape wasn't fully a circle, and the three spirals were asymmetrical, but Peter loved it just the same. 

"Its not very good," Stiles said softly -always so softly when he got embarrassed. "I'll make you another one when I get better."

"I like this one," Peter smiled, kissing Stiles on his cheek, bringing out more of that rosy tone. 

*-*

A few days later, its Halloween. Talia allows the pups to go trick or treating, as long as Peter and Vivian go with them. 

The older kids stay home with the rest of the pack for Halloween themed snacks and scary movies. 

Vivian and Peter don't really dress up, but they put in a little effort. Peter has a pair or plastic devil's horns on his head, and Vivian wears a black magician's cape. 

Cora is dressed as an astronaut, with the tin foil antenna and everything. Derek is a cowboy, and Stiles dresses up like a wizard. 

"I wore it last year," Stiles said ruefully as they drive into town. "Its more fitting this year."

Stiles and Derek are almost too old to trick or treat, but they still like candy and its free, so they go up to the houses with Cora and fill their pillow cases. 

When Stiles isn't getting candy, though, he's walking right beside Peter, sharing his loot. Peter smiles at him and takes his free hand in his. 

The boy is definitely growing into his looks, Peter thinks. He's got a few more growth spurts to go yet, but Peter can see he's going to be a very attractive man, and his wolf preens. 

*-*

John comes over for Thanksgiving dinner that November, and he's sporting a five month sobriety chip, and is still in counseling. He's improved a lot under Talia's care. 

Peter's worried John will want Stiles to move back in. Hes proud of the sheriff, but the thought of Stiles not sleeping across the hall from or in bed with Peter makes the werewolf anxious. 

He wants his boy to stay, but its really up to Stiles. The topic doesn't pop up during dinner, thankfully, but John does bring it up later that night. 

While the rest of the pack is in the living room, John, Peter, Talia and Stiles step out into the cold evening air and sit down on the back porch. 

When John brings up the suggestion of Stiles 'coming home' -Peter can't help but think this is Stiles' home, not the Stilinski residence- the adults all look at Stiles. 

Stiles shrinks under the attention, heart rate spiking. Peter sets a hand on Stiles' shoulder, reassuring the boy. 

"Its your choice, Stiles," Peter reminds him. Its a decision a fourteen year old shouldn't have to make, but its better he do. 

Stiles chewed on his lip, fingers pushing against his mouth. He looks from Peter to John, then back again. 

The adults are patient with him, and finally, Stiles answers. 

"May-maybe for starters, I could, um, come over on the weekends?" His voice is hesitant and shy, riddled with anxiety, and unsure. Peter squeezes his shoulder again, and he looks at the sheriff with baited breath, worrying his lip. 

John smiles. "I think thats a great idea, kid." His heart beat is steady, and Peter and Talia smile too. Baby steps. 

Stiles' shoulders sag in relief and he steps out from under Peter's hand and into John's arms. There's still a lot to work on, Peter knows. He knows Stiles is still afraid of the sheriff, but he's grown more confident over the months, learning new magic and living with 'wolves. 

And Peter can handle Stiles not being around for two days out of the week. 

That night, after the sheriff has gone home and the pack goes to their rooms, Stiles digs under Peter's bed and pulls out the tin box. He'd moved it from his clearing a couple months ago. 

Peter had gotten him a sketchbook for his birthday, and it was already almost half filled. Peter smiled as he sat on the bed, legs out and crossed at the ankle, back against the headboard. He had one of the books he got for his own birthday in his hands. 

Stiles crawled back onto the bed -he'd practically moved in after the incident with Deucalion, and Peter didnt mind at all- with his tin box making noise as he shifts. 

Once he's settled, he opens it and pulls out the new sketchbook. The boy had let Peter look at the old one once it was full. It was a big step in trust for the boy and Peter had rewarded him with a kiss on the cheek. 

The picture Stiles was drawing that fateful day almost two years ago -when Peter found out Stiles knew about werewolves- was a portrait of Peter. His first drawing of Peter, actually. 

Stiles was getting much better at drawing, and he drew the pack a lot, as human and wolf. He drew his dad, the house, the woods, and even from his own imagination. 

Some drawings were of nightmares he had, or what he pictured for the future. One of his drawings had even found its way to the fridge, nestled between Cora's colorful albeit juvenile drawing of the pack, and the other pups' drawings from when they were younger.

Stiles had smiled so wide when he saw it there, and Peter couldn't help but smile too. Stiles was pack. He was everywhere in the house now. Talia had a picture of the pups in her office, and smack in the middle of the puppy pile was a laughing Stiles. 

Stiles' shoes were added to the pile at the front door, he had a spot on the couch during movie nights, and a permanent chair at the table.

It didnt feel like it'd been two years -almost- and every time Peter was reminded how finely ingrained his boy was in the pack, he couldn't help but smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double post just like you asked! 
> 
> We got home-made birthday presents and adult conversations with the sheriff! I loved the sheriff too much in the show to turn him into a terrible person in this book. I want Stiles and the sheriff to have a relationship, even if it's rocky and a little bit traumatic for Stiles. I still want John in his life, even if it's at the sidelines. 
> 
> Plus, Stiles is about to get way more drama in his life, the least I could do was smooth out his relationship with his dad. 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think!!


	22. Chapter 22

Its January, and two weeks from Cora's tenth birthday when Ennis murders his whole pack. It happened overnight, and it was brutal. 

Ennis' pack lives two hundred and fifty miles away from Beacon Hills, in a coastal town called West River, south of Sacramento. 

Satomi Ito and her pack are the first to hear of it -her pack lives an hour and a half from West River in a landlocked city called St. Nonscott near the California Nevada border- and she takes a couple of her best fighters to check it out. What she reports is something even Peter didnt expect from Ennis. 

His betas are torn to shreds, barely recognizable. His emissary was even found in the midst of the dead pack.

Ennis is nowhere to be found, and neither is Deucalion. No one knows whats caused the alphas to go feral, and Satomi decides to implement the same safety precautions Talia has. The Ito pack is much bigger than the Hale pack, and have no problem fending for themselves. 

The hunters don't even seem to know whats caused the two alphas to go feral, and they've put hunting on the back burner to figure it out. It means the Hale pack are safe for now, but no one is letting their guard down. 

Derek and Stiles are navigating freshmen year with flying colors. They share many of the same classes with Boyd and Issac, and the four of them seem to be becoming great friends. 

Derek's even tried out for the basketball team -whereas Stiles tries out for lacrosse with Issac. The two have bonded over the last year when Issac's brother was killed in action, and Talia lets Stiles know his friends are more than welcome to come over -as long as the pack has warning ahead of time. 

The boys build muscle over their first year of high school with practice, and the coach makes them take track as well. 

When spring break hits, Stiles turns fifteen, and Laura turns seventeen. Its the second year that they have a shared birthday party the day after Stiles' and the day before Laura's. 

Peter got him another sketchbook, and some watercolor paints, knowing his boy had wanted to try a new medium. 

"Thank you," he grins, leaning against Peter's side in an armless hug. Peter smiles and kisses his cheek. 

The day ends with a movie of Stiles' choice -he chooses Underworld- and popcorn. 

"Will you teach me how to drive?" Stiles asked quietly, looking over at Peter from his spot on the couch. The movie is half over, and the whole pack's attention is taken, even with all the inaccuracies. 

"Yeah," Peter whispered, leaning over to brush his cheek against Stiles' hair. "How about next week."

Stiles just nodded, smelling content and nuzzling against the werewolf. The little spark has picked up a lot of werewolf mannerisms subconsciously.

Peter doesn't think the kid knows what he's really doing when he wiggles against the blankets and pillows, rubbing his scent into the fabric. Or when he scents the pack back thoughtlessly when he walks by. 

He's even started scenting his father and friends. Peter smirks a bit when Stiles hugs his dad the next day at the party and rubs his face all over the sheriff's shirt. John just laughs at the boy and shoves him off, but Peter doesn't think the sheriff thinks anything of it. 

"Do you think we should tell the sheriff about the pack?" Talia asked beside him, having watched the exchange. 

Peter hums, watching as John steps up to the grill with Mark and Victor. 

"I think Stiles should be apart of the decision making on this one," Peter said, watching his boy run across the lawn to where Laura and Derek are. 

"Its not just our secret we'd be exposing," he continued, turning to look at Talia. "Stiles needs to be comfortable with his dad knowing he's a spark too."

Talia nodded and smiles, patting Peter on the back. "This is why you're my left hand," she praised, ruffling his hair before walking off to join Vivian at the porch. 

Much like last year, the kids play in the yard, though this time, the older teenagers join too. 

Laura, Mary, Mark and Boyd against Issac, Derek, Stiles and Cora. There isn't as many injuries this go around, and when Stiles gets tired after two hours of running around, he settles in the grass between Peter's legs. 

Peter smirks, nosing at his neck and inhaling the strong scent of cinnamon and balsam fir made more aromatic with sweat and exertion. 

"Having fun?" Peter asked softly. Victor has taken Stiles' place in the game, and runs with Derek under one arm and Cora under the other. The rest of the pups -and the human children- are chasing them and laughing. 

Stiles nods, still trying to catch his breath. He's gotten taller too in the last year. He's almost six feet tall. His limbs are still miles long, and he's still as gangly and awkward as always, but its a lot harder for him to fold into Peter's side. 

Standing side by side, Peter still has a couple inches on him, but he wouldn't be shocked if by the time Stiles hits twenty, he's taller than the werewolf. 

All the kids have grown a lot this last year. Boyd was always a big kid, but now, he towers over the other kids, with line backer shoulders and thunder thighs. Peter had always assumed he'd try out for football, but the kid had been hinting at joining lacrosse with Stiles and Issac come next year. 

Issac is even taller than Stiles, but just as skinny. Cora had a growth spurt as well, and was turning into a young woman. 

Derek wasn't as skinny as Stiles or Issac, but he was lean, werewolf genes giving him muscle definition he didnt really have to work for. He was turning into a looker too, and the girls in their grade were taking notice. 

Stiles leaned a little more against Peter's chest, and the werewolf smiles against his skin, reveling at the spike in his heartrate, the sharp scent of arousal wafting from his boy. 

The two haven't done anything intimate yet, aside from the scenting and cuddling and the occasional kiss to Stiles' forehead or cheek. Stiles is still much too young for Peter to take it a step further in good conscience. 

Though he wants to. Stiles has grown into a young man, and although he doesn't quite know how to use his body, he still manages to get Peter flustered when he stretches in the morning or cranes his neck back to expose the tendon and soft tissue. 

Stiles has taken to jerking off in the shower when he thinks Peter's still sleeping, and anything sets his little pecker off. Peter can't help but smirk whenever a brush of a hand or early morning spooning had Stiles scrambling out of the room, embarrassment and arousal thick in his woodsy scent. 

They just have to wait a little while longer before they get intimate, but he thinks Stiles is old enough now to date, and he's planning on courting his young mate come summer, when his days are free and his afternoons aren't filled with extracurriculars. 

Stiles plays with Peter's hand lazily as they continue watching the game, laughing when Mark and Laura manage to tackle Victor to the ground. Cora flails, groaning and shouting as she's pinned under Victor's arm. Derek had managed to wiggle out, and he joins in the dog pile of laughing teenagers. 

Peter smiles and places another kiss to Stiles' jaw before brushing his stubble against his boy's smooth cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just moving the plot along!!! Tell me what you think!


	23. Chapter 23

Stiles wakes up early and groans quietly. Its the first day of summer vacation, and his body hasn't quite caught on that he doesn't have to wake up at six anymore. 

He rolls out of bed, careful not to wake up Peter and makes his way to the bathroom, to shower and take care of his morning wood. 

Its been a morning ritual since Stiles turned fourteen. Wake up, shower, jerk off, pretend he didnt when he comes back into the bedroom, and repeat the next day. 

It'd be easier if Stiles just moved back into his old room across the hall, but Stiles finds its hard for him to sleep without Peter anymore. 

When he goes to his dad's on the weekend, he has to bring Peter's pillow, just so he can pretend the 'wolf is sleeping next to him. 

Peter doesn't mind, because Stiles always leaves his own pillow behind. They tried sleeping away from each other once since Stiles had permanently taken up the left side of Peter's bed, and half way through the night Stiles had knocked on Peter's door with pillow in hand. 

He had been surprised when the door opened almost immediately to show Peter, hair ruffled and eyes heavy lidded. He had let out a breath of relief at seeing Stiles and the two had climbed into his queen sized bed and fallen right to sleep. 

So, Stiles had to sneak out of bed most mornings and take care of himself. He was still too young for Peter -even though he didnt think so at all. 

Peter was going to be twenty-five in October, which was four months away. Sometimes Stiles looked at their age difference and wished he was older. That maybe if Stiles was older, they'd have shared their first kiss together already, or even gone on dates and done couply things. 

Stiles was fifteen now. He was about to start sophomore year in the fall, and he hadn't even had his first kiss. Derek was kissing girls left and right! He got to sneak off to broom closets to make out with cheer leaders, and Stiles was stuck in math class. 

Back in middle school, Stiles was ahead of the game. He already had his soulmate, and everyone else was left behind. Then high school hit, and his peers were getting it on, and Stiles was still in the same place he was before. 

It didnt lessen the sting that Derek was also eight months younger than Stiles was. Even Issac and Boyd seemed to be lucky in that department. 

He sighed heavily as he turned the shower on, stripping out of his night clothes as the water warmed up. 

Stiles has learned from experience that touching his cock in the morning wasn't a good idea, after he tried stroking himself while waiting for the water to warm. His had had been freezing and Stiles had hissed and gone soft almost instantly. 

So, Stiles stared down at his dick and kept his hands to himself. When steam started billowing from the shower, Stiles stepped in, lifting his hands to warm them in the spray. 

He got himself wet, stepping under the shower head and letting the water run down his chest and back. 

When his hands no longer felt like ice, he wrapped one around his shaft and got to work. He was pretty average in length, but he was thinner than he'd like. He hopes that it'll continue to grow with him, and wonders briefly -not for the first time- if he could get it to grow with magic. 

Stiles has yet to find a spell or book that would work, but he's not quite given up. 

Stiles doesn't last long, and he cums on a whimper, his leg muscles tensing and his lungs filling with air. 

He continues stroking himself through his orgasm, painting the shower floor with his spunk and watching it wash away with the water. 

He stands there a moment, breathing softly and closing his eyes to keep water out before he gets his hair wet again and reaches for the shampoo. 

*-*

Stiles glances over at Peter nervously, chewing on his lower lip and thanking every diety out there that Laura wasn't here to see this. 

"Don't be nervous, sweetheart," Peter smirked, probably smelling the nerves wafting off of Stiles like bad B.O.

"What if I crash?" Stiles asked. 

"Then you owe me a new car," Peter responded. Stiles was too high strung to laugh. He wanted to learn how to drive, but now that he was actually behind the wheel and Peter was wanting him to actually drive on the road, Stiles is having second thoughts. 

It takes a little more prodding from Peter before Stiles gets the car in drive and coasts down the dirt road. Stiles doesn't press on the gas -thinks its going fast enough without it- and he slowly loosens up a bit. 

"Give it a little gas," Peter orders. Stiles does as he's told and the car jurks forward. Stiles instantly slams on the breaks and Peter throws his hands out to catch himself so he doesn't hit the dash board. 

"Sorry."

"Its okay," Peter huffed, smirking over at Stiles. "Try again. Just ease into it."

Stiles nodded and took a deep breath before taking his foot off the break. When he presses on the gas, it's with barely-there pressure, and the Charger moves forward much smoother. 

He keeps the speed at just under fifteen miles an hour, putting his focus on keeping the car straight on the road. Thankfully they're not on the actual road -haven't even left the preserve yet- so there's no other cars to worry about. 

When they do get to paved road, Peter keeps Stiles on the neighborhood streets, and tells him when its time to shift gears. 

Stiles drives into the curb three times, almost clips a car or two, and gets honked at by an impatient suburban mom in a minivan. 

Stiles puts the car in park on the side of the road, letting out a breath he didnt realize he was holding the whole forty minutes of driving, and Peter chuckles, reaching over to run his fingers through Stiles' hair. 

"You did good," he said. Stiles grunted and rolled his eyes, but couldn't help smile. "Its your first time, no one expects you to be a master."

"I guess," Stiles hummed. The two get out of their seats and walk around the hood. Stiles sits down in the passenger seat this time, and Peter drives them into town. 

"Where are we going?" Stiles asked, glancing over at Peter. The werewolf smirks a little, and Stiles narrows his eyes. 

"I'm taking you out for lunch," he answered finally. Stiles blinked, his mind working a mile a minute to pick his response apart. 

"Taking me out for lunch?" Stiles repeated, wondering if Peter meant to word it that way. Peter's smirk grew, and he glanced over at Stiles and nodded. 

"On a date, sweetheart."

"Really?" Stiles can't help but exclaim, sitting up straighter in his seat and looking at Peter with wide eyes. 

"Really," Peter smiles. Stiles grins and practically bounces in his seat with excitement as Peter drives them to the pack's favorite restaurant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've switched POV!! And we've got a date! Tell me what you guys think!


	24. Chapter 24

Stiles and Peter sit at the back of the restaurant, in a booth for two. Stiles can't stop grinning, and his leg won't stop bouncing under the table. 

"I wanted to talk to you about something," Peter said when the waitress left to put their orders in. Stiles spit out the end of the straw he was chewing on to frown at Peter. 

He hummed for Peter to go on. 

"Talia and I have been talking about telling your dad about us," Peter started, ice blue eyes looking intently at Stiles. "But we want your input too, because we'd be telling him about your spark as well."

Stiles had thought about how his dad would react to werewolves and magic users. He hated keeping the pack and his spark a secret from the sheriff -it was such a big part of Stiles' life. 

He couldn't remember how many times he thought it would just be easier to tell him. Especially when Stiles was still learning to control his magic. 

Stiles sighed though, already knowing right now wasnt the best time to break the news to his dad. 

"I don't think its a good idea," Stiles said softly. Peter inclined his head to the side in a silent quest for an explanation. Stiles sighed again and shrugged an arm, for it to land on the table with a thump. 

"He's doing better, but, I feel like if we tell him, its just going to make him drink again," he said, and he hated saying it. John had come such a long way, and he was trying hard. 

But a small part of Stiles was always going to be afraid of his dad drinking again. Of maybe getting too angry and turning violent. Stiles could defend himself now, but he still couldn't bring himself to be alone with his dad for more than his weekend visits. 

Adding the stress of the supernatural onto his already full plate wasn't a good idea. Peter nodded, giving Stiles a small smile. "I'll let Talia know."

The rest of lunch was filled of much lighter topics. Stiles had gotten a cheeseburger and fries, and Peter got some Greek dish with lamb and flat bread. 

"Do you think," Stiles starts, mouth half full. He chews a bit more and swallows. "When I get my license I can get a jeep?"

Peter raised an eyebrow at him, and Stiles blushed a bit before quickly wiping his greasy fingers off on a napkin and fishing in his pocket for his phone. 

"There's an old one for sale in town," he said, opening his phone and clicking through his camera roll. 

It'd been for sale for almost a year in the used car lot, and it was Stiles' favorite color and everything. 

When he finds it, he hands his phone over to Peter, who's also wiping his hands off before he holds the phone. 

He looks at it with a raised eyebrow, and Stiles can feel the judgement coming from his soulmate. 

"This is a piece of shit, Stiles," Peter finally points out. 

"I know, but I like it!" Stiles exclaimed, arms spreading out on the table. "Its perfect, and its only two thousand and fifty, which isn't bad!"

"Its probably so cheap because the repairs alone will break the bank."

"But its cool," Stiles groaned. 

"You can't just buy a car because its cool," Peter deadpanned, handing the phone back to Stiles, who pockets it with a snort. 

"Says the guy who bought a Dodge Charger because Vin Diesel drove it in Fast and Furious."

Stiles can't help but smirk as he says it, and Peter's eyebrows shoot up his forehead before he laughs. Stiles pops a fry in his mouth, proudly having won that argument. 

"You don't want anything cooler?" Peter asked once he's finished laughing. "Like a Lamborghini or a Porche?"

Stiles makes a face. "Jackson drives a Porche, and he's a douchebag," he grunts. "I like the jeep."

Peter sighs, and its the sigh Stiles knows well. The sigh of defeat. Stiles tries hard not to grin, but it doesn't quite work. 

Peter flicks a piece of lettuce off his plate, the leaf landing on Stiles shirt, and he smirks a bit. Stiles brushes it off and takes a bite of his burger. 

"I'm a little offended you called the jeep old," Peter mentioned off hand. "Its from the 80s, not exactly an antique."

"The 80s is old," Stiles hummed. Peter flicked him in the arm and Stiles yelped a bit, yanking his arm out of reach and rubbing the sore spot with a frown. 

"I'm from the 80s," Peter reminded him. Stiles just grinned. 

"Yeah, and you're old."

"Just wait til you're twenty-four," Peter hummed. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Stiles doesn't respond to that, just smiles and continues eating. After lunch is all paid for, the two head back home. Peter drives them to the preserve, and lets Stiles drive the rest of the way to the house. 

The two climb out of the Charger, and Peter waits for Stiles to round the hood and fall into step beside him before linking their fingers. Stiles smiles, pressing into the werewolf's side. 

"Thank you for taking me on the date," he said softly, smiling against Peter's shoulder as he looks down at their hands. 

Peter squeezes his hand, and the two walked up the porch steps. Stiles lifts his head from Peter's shoulder and reaches his free hand out to grab the door handle. 

Peter grabs him before he can, and Stiles grunts when Peter spins him around and presses him into the siding beside the door. 

For a second, Stiles wonders if Peter's heard something, and he turns his head to check the yard and treeline. "What-"

He looks back at Peter, but his question is cut off with Peter's lips. Stiles' heart rate skyrockets, and his arms are held out on either side of him by Peter. 

Stiles thinks his brain has short circuited, but it quickly comes back online when Peter starts moving his lips against his. 

Its a soft kiss, mostly closed mouth, even as Peter angles his head a bit. Stiles' toes curl in his shoes, and he kisses back, the sound of their lips parting and their breathing loud in Stiles' ear. 

Peter keeps ahold of Stiles' wrists and pushes them softly into the siding, kissing him again and again and stealing all of Stiles' breath. 

Then, all too soon, Peter is pulling away, and he's smirking down at Stiles, who blinks his eyes open a little late. 

He knows his cheeks are probably as red asa tomato, but he doesn't care. Peter kissed him! 

Peter lets go of his wrists and steps back before tugging the door open. 

"You keep your mouth open like that and a bird will poop in it," Peter comments. Stiles blinks before clamping his mouth shut and rushing inside. 

He's got the biggest boner in his pants, and he adjusts it a bit while his back is turned to Peter. The werewolf shuts the door and curls an arm around Stiles' shoulder, nuzzling his still burning cheek with his nose. 

"Thank you for going on the date with me, sweetheart."

Stiles thinks his legs might turn to jelly, and he can't stop smiling. He wants to kiss Peter again. He didnt realize Peter's lips were so soft. They were pillow soft and smooth, and felt a lot fuller than they looked. 

He wanted to kiss Peter's lips all day, and he wondered if Peter would be okay with them doing that again, regularly. 

"How was your date?" Talia asked, pulling Stiles from his wild thoughts. 

"Good," Stiles managed, and Talia smiled widely at him. Behind her, Stiles heard Laura gagging. 

"I can't believe you find uncle Peter attractive enough to kiss him," she commented, loud enough for Stiles' human ears to hear her. 

"Don't be jealous," Stiles huffed, still not being able to help smiling. "One day you'll get a soulmate, and then you'll understand."

Talia and Peter chuckle, and Stiles' eyes widen when he heard Laura growl and the scrape of the chair on laminate. 

He dips out from under Peter's arm and bolts for the stairs just as Laura charges him. He shouts at her, laughing the whole way up the stairs. 

"Get over here you little shit!" Laura growls, and she's close enough to brush her fingers against Stiles' shirt. 

Stiles runs into his and Peter's bedroom, spinning around and trying to slam the door closed. Laura is too fast, and she yanks it open and stomps over to Stiles, who's trapped. 

Peter finds them on the floor, Laura on her back with her legs around Stiles and the boy struggling to get out of a headlock and squawking indignantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A date!! Next chapter has some angst!!! Let me know what you think!


	25. Chapter 25

Stiles wakes up screaming. He blindly flails and struggles against the blankets, eyes open but unseeing. 

Arms grab him and pin him down, and Stiles lets out another shout, kicking and thrashing. "Stiles, its okay!"

The door flies open and the light turns in so suddenly, Stiles is startled still. He pinches his eyes closed and turns his face to hide in the pillow, body trembling. 

"What happened?" Talia asked, walking into the room in a nightgown. Stiles can see the pack gathered at the door and takes in a shaky breath, rolling over and burying his face into Peter's chest. 

"Its just a nightmare," Peter answered. Stiles chokes on a sob, his muscles and joints stiff. 

"S-something's wr-wrong," Stiles gasped into Peter's collar bone. Peter holds Stiles tighter, ducking his head to kiss his hair. 

"Go back to bed," Talia said. Stiles felt the pack shift away from the door and go back to their rooms. Talia shut it before making her way to Stiles' side and sitting down. 

"Stiles, honey, whats wrong?"

Stiles tightens his hold on Peter and the werewolf does the same. "Its alright, sweetheart," he promised. 

Stiles shook his head, not taking his face out of Peter's chest even as he says, "theres so much blood."

"At the nemeton?" 

"Close," Stiles whimpered. The nemeton had felt every death, and in turn, so did Stiles. And it hurt. Stiles' stomach was in knots and he thought he might be sick. 

He hadn't been able to wake up at all during the whole thing, and even when he was screaming and thrashing on the bed, it was like he wasn't really in the bedroom. It felt like he was there, in the woods surrounded by death and blood and pain. 

"I'll go check it out," Talia said softly, her hand rubbing Stiles' shoulder. 

"I'll go too," Peter said, already moving to sit up. "Do you know where it happened?"

Stiles nodded, forcing himself to stop shaking and take deep breaths. "I want to come."

"No," Peter said instantly, climbing out of bed and making his way to the dresser. Stiles scowled at his back. 

"Its better you stay here, Stiles," Talia sighed, shooting a look at Peter. 

"I want to go," Stiles repeated. "You can't stop me from going."

Peter stepped into a pair of jeans, turning to growl at Stiles. "I'll tie you to the bed."

Stiles blinks, then climbs out from under the covers. "Then I wont tell you where it is."

"Stiles," Talia sighed. 

"I'll just follow you anyway," Stiles informed the two. "I gotta go."

"Why?" Peter asked, slipping a shirt over his head. "If your reaction to it is any indication of how brutal its going to be, you don't want to see it."

Stiles sighed. Peter was right about that. He didnt want to see it. Seeing Deucalion lose his eyes was bad enough to keep Stiles from ever voluntarily walking into crime scenes ever again. 

But...

"Its my job," he said. Talia and Peter were silent, frowns on their faces. 

"The Hales have been protecting the nemeton, but it needs a magic user," Stiles explained quietly. "I wouldn't be feeling what the nemeton is feeling or hearing it, if it didnt entrust me with protecting it."

Talia glanced at Peter with a raised eyebrow, but Stiles knew the werewolf was stubborn. 

"I can't protect the nemeton if I don't know whats wrong," Stiles said. Peter sighed, running his thumb and finger into his eyes. 

"I'm fifteen now, I'm not a kid."

In the end, Stiles got his way. He followed Talia and Peter through the woods in the dead of night, still shaking from the violence that occurred on Hale ground. 

As they get closer, Stiles slips his hand into Peter's, and the wolf glances down and squeezes his palm. 

When they reach the clearing not far from the nemeton, Stiles feels his blood run cold. His feet stop moving just on the edge of the clearing. 

"What the fuck," Peter breathes, stopping a couple steps ahead. The clearing is filled with both human and wolf alike, all torn to shreds and ripped to pieces. 

Stiles can't tell where one body starts and the other ends -its hard to tell which limb belongs to which body. 

"Who did this?"

Stiles feels his stomach roll and quickly yanks his hand from Peter's and spins around. He takes three steps and drops to his knees and throws up. 

It was so much worse than what Stiles had felt, and he didnt think that was possible. He felt a hand on his back and knew it was Peter. 

Stiles curled his arms around his middle as he heaved again, and again until there was nothing left and his stomach was sore. 

"Come on, sweetheart," Peter hummed, hooking his hands under Stiles' arms and hauling him to his feet. Stiles wiped his mouth, thankful for Peter's arm around his ribs -his legs felt like jelly. 

"Do you recognize anyone?" Peter asks Talia, whos braved the clearing and is stepping around puddles of blood and limb. Stiles thinks he sees a severed head and he quickly turns his head to keep from being sick again. 

"No, but they smell familiar," Talia sighed. She continues making her way to the middle of the carnage -where there's a small pile of dead werewolves- and then stills. Stiles feels goosebumps ripple his skin, and he anxiously grips Peter's shirt. 

"Its Kali's pack," Talia breathes. 

"What is Kali's pack doing here?" Peter demanded, still holding Stiles at the edge of the clearing. "They didn't have permission to be in our territory."

Talia doesn't answer him, but Stiles has a feeling he knows the answer. 

Deucalion, then Ennis and now Kali? It wasnt hard for Stiles to begin fitting pieces together. 

Deucalion going feral and killing his pack was an incident. Ennis also killing his pack could be classified as a coincidence. Kali killing her pack was a pattern. 

The alphas weren't going feral, Stiles realized with a sickening start. Kali killing her pack so close to the nemeton could only mean she was looking for power. 

If she was looking for power, then Ennis and Deucalion were too. 

"What happens when an alpha kills their betas?" Stiles asked, looking from the pool of blood closest to him up to Talia. 

"Nobody knows," Talia said, frowning down at the bodies around her. "Some think it hurts the same as a pack bond breaking."

Stiles glances at the bodies again and swallows thickly. 

"What are you thinking, sweetheart?" Peter prods softly, looking down at Stiles with patience in his icy blue eyes. 

Stiles looks back up at him before turning to Talia with a frown. 

"What if its different? For an alpha to kill their own beta," he said. He remembered the book Peter had read him about werewolf sparks two years ago. 

"When an alpha bonds with a beta, they share more than just the pack bond, they share their spark," Stiles said. "What if when an alpha kills their beta, instead of just breaking the bond, they also take their spark?"

"If thats the case, then we have three alpha werewolves with the spark of a pack in their hands," Talia exclaimed, making her way towards the two. Stiles doesn't like the thought of that.

None of them had a stronger spark than Stiles -even if they took every spark they could, they wouldn't hold a candle to Stiles- but the thought of an alpha being stronger than his own made Stiles anxious. 

"Why'd she bring them here?" Peter demanded. 

"Closer to the telluric currents," Talia commented. Stiles frowned, unfamiliar with what a telluric current was. "Beacon Hills has a higher amount of activity, and they're much stronger this close to the nemeton."

"You think thats how they did it?" Peter asked. Stiles frowned, feeling a pit in his stomach. "Used the currents to take their beta's sparks?"

"Its a strong possibility," Talia said, shrugging a little. Stiles blinks, lowering his head when the pit in his stomach worsens. Somethings wrong. "At least with Kali and Deucalion. Ennis killed his pack in West River."

Stiles hears his blood rushing in his ears seconds before what feels like a gust of energy slammed into his chest. 

Stiles gasped and stumbled back, a weight on his chest making it hard to breathe. 

"Stiles!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliff hanger!! 
> 
> What do you guys think? Next chapter continues the angst!


	26. Chapter 26

"Stiles!" Peter drops to his knees, guiding Stiles to the ground and holding the back of his head. "Hey, what is it? Stiles."

Stiles finally manages to suck in a loud breath, but there's tears spilling down his cheeks and he feels like the energy is now pulsating in the air around them, pushing into Stiles' body like the water in a wave pool. 

"The nemeton-" he managed, sucking in more air. He feels his spark manifesting, sizzle-popping in the night air and singeing his clothes. 

He hears Peter hissing a bit in pain and knows he's most likely hurting him, but he can't seem to get a handle on it. 

Its like his spark is growing, and his body is too small to contain it. "Go, I'll stay here," Peter snapped at Talia, pulling Stiles closer despite the very lethal sparks erupting from his shaking hands. 

Talia gets to her feet and runs off. Stiles gasps for more air, and Peter tucks Stiles' face into his shoulder. 

"Breathe, sweetheart," Peter orders. "Get control, just like we practiced."

"I can't!" Stiles gasped, curling his hands into fists and holding them to his chest. He's heaving but can't seem to catch his breath. 

"Yes, you can," Peter promised.

"It-it feels like-" Stiles chokes, "like I'm overflowing. I-I can't hold it all."

"Then don't," Peter said, and it shocks Stiles enough for him to pull his face from Peter's neck and stare at him with wide eyes. Peter just looks determined, his jaw clenched and eyes steely. "Don't hold it in, let it all go, okay sweetheart?"

"I'm gonna hurt you," Stiles chokes out, hands still pressed tightly to his chest. His shirt has burned holes in the front, and the cuffs of his sleeves. His hands are practically glowing like molten hot glass, and everything hurts with each wave of energy being pulsated through his core. 

"If you don't let it out you might hurt yourself," Peter said, frowning down at Stiles even as he maneuvers him around. Stiles is sat on Peter's crossed legs, back to chest. "Its okay, I've got you."

Stiles doesn't want to, but his body makes the decision for him. Hes too small for the amount of power filling him, and Stiles has just enough time to shove his arms out, palms forward, when his spark explodes. 

Stiles can't help but shout as electricity and fire and light shoot from his hands, and Peter's arms around his middle tighten. 

Stiles' eyes widen further when he notices the magic trickling up his arms, like hot metal, slowly turning red and glowing in the middle. He knows his skin is burning, but he doesn't feel the heat. 

Seconds later, the pulsing energy disappears and Stiles' spark trickles off. Stiles sags against Peter, exhausted. His arms cool, returning to their normal pale skin, and his hands follow soon after. 

Whats left in his wake is charred forest. The clearing is no more, and neither are the bodies. Everything is black and smoldering, but there's no fire. 

"Better?" Peter breathes, taking all of Stiles' weight and holding him tightly. Stiles only nods, eyelids already drooping. "That was incredible, sweetheart."

Stiles lifts his head when Talia comes back, a body in her arms. Peter stands up, forcing Stiles to do the same. 

"Its the emissary," Talia said, face pale. She takes in the charred woods around her quickly, looking at Stiles before continuing. "She needs a hospital."

Stiles ends up having to be carried, and he crawls onto Peter's back before the two werewolves take off towards their house. 

Stiles passes out before they get there, but he wakes up when Talia and the emissary peel out of the gravel driveway with rocks flying into the garage door. 

The rest of the pack is awake and asking questions, but Stiles is so out of it he can't hear anything. He blinks, but can't get his eyes to open again. He tries, but its like someone glued them shut. 

He's laid down in bed and Peter's taking his ruined shirt off before pulling his shoes off. Stiles can't do more than lay there, but Peter doesn't complain. 

He's tucked under the covers, and then Peter's gone. Its a testament to how tired Stiles really is that he didn't beg Peter to stay. He thinks he might be fallen asleep before the werewolf even left his side of the bed. 

*-*

When Stiles wakes up, he's alone, but a glance over to the other side of the bed tells him Peter had been there. 

Daylight trickles in from the gap in the curtains and Stiles stretches stiff muscles and rolls over. 

The clock on the end table reads 4:37pm. Stiles sighs, rubs his eyes and stretches once more before climbing out of bed. 

He feels normal -as apposed to last night- aside from being drop dead exhausted. His spark is easily manageable, and he brings it to the surface, just to make sure. 

His arms don't glow like they did last night, but the sizzle-pop of magic on his palms is a welcome sound. 

Stiles walks over to the dresser and opens the top left drawer to pull out a new shirt. Peter had moved all his clothes to one side of the double drawered dresser for Stiles months ago. 

He pulls a shirt out and glances down at his chest. Where there should've been scorch marks and blisters, was smooth skin. Stiles brushed his fingers over it before pulling his shirt on. 

He'd assumed he couldnt be hurt by his own magic, but hadn't experimented farther than shocking himself. 

His jeans are worn and wrinkled, so he changes into a pair of sweat pants. He puts on socks and then makes his way into the hallway. 

The instant he steps out, the door a couple down swings open and Laura rushes for him. Stiles tenses before she plows through him, curling her arms around him and burying her nose into his neck. 

"You okay?" She asked. Stiles blinked, his face shoved into her shoulder. He gave a small nod and Laura gave a full body sigh, sagging against him before pulling away and punching Stiles in the arm. 

"Ow!"

"Don't do that again," Laura growled. "You scared mom and uncle Peter."

Stiles gaped a bit like a fish, not sure what to say. It wasn't like he did it on purpose! Laura hugged him again. Stiles flinched when she pulled back, expecting to be punched again, but Laura just grunted at him, rolled her eyes and walked back to her room, slamming the door. 

Stiles blinked after her before clearing his head and walking down the hall to the stairs. His legs still felt unsteady, so he used the railing when climbing down, and when he landed on solid ground again, Vivian rushed in and scooped him up into her chest. 

"M'okay," Stiles grunted, his feet lifting off the ground. 

"You scared us all to death, pup," Vivian whined, and Stiles thinks she might be crying. When she sets him back down on his feet, an arm drops onto his shoulder and he looks up to see Victor. 

"Glad you're not dead, kid," he grinned. Stiles nodded. He didnt think what happened would give the pack this much of a scare. Sure, he slept for most of the day, but he was tired. 

"Hey, sweetheart."

Stiles' head whipped to the right at Peter's voice. He was wearing soft clothes, hands stuffed into his pockets and his shoulder leaning into the door frame. 

Stiles quickly ducked under Victor's arm and rushed to Peter, crashing into his chest and burying his face in the werewolf's collarbone. 

Peter hugged him tightly, lowering his head so he could rub the rough stubble of his goatee against Stiles' neck. 

"I was starting to worry about you," Peter confessed softly, voice muffled against Stiles' skin. Stiles just hugged him tighter, nuzzling deeper into the werewolf's shirt. 

Hd was still weak, and after a moment, he pulled away, legs feeling like they'd give out any minute. Peter kept ahold of him, which Stiles appreciated, and the two walked to the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again! I never knew how anyone found Jennifer at the nemeton, since it was in the middle of nowhere. I'm pretty sure the sheriff finds her? I could be wrong, but it made no sense to me. 
> 
> And its a good thing Stiles came with them! I'm sure he would've leveled the house with the magic build up. 
> 
> So I have a discussion! Like I've been wondering about this for a while. Kind of along the lines of Thor's hammer and a worthy elevator, okay? Stay with me here and let me know what you guys think!
> 
> If a werewolf is dead, can they cross the mountain ash barrier? If there's a line of mountain ash, and a werewolf is in a car, and said car drives through the barrier, does the werewolf go through too, or does he stop the car because he can't pass?
> 
> Can a werewolf use another werewolf to break through the barrier? Like throw a body into the line? Also, can werewolves break barriers with objects, or does the mountain ash know its a werewolf and now the object can't pass as long as its held by the werewolf??
> 
> So many questions and no answers!!!! What do you guys think??


	27. Chapter 27

"Is the emissary okay?" Stiles asked when he sat down on the stool. Peter made his way to the fridge -hopefully to feed Stiles- and pulled out stuff for sandwiches. 

"She's in critical condition," Peter responded. Talia's office door opened and the alpha came out, looking pleased to see Stiles awake. She walked over and ran fingers through his hair. 

"You feeling better, sweetie?"

Stiles nodded, smiling a little to himself. The whole pack seemed worried about him. He didn't think he was that important to the pack. He knew he was important to Peter, but he assumed he was more of Peter's plus-one when it came to the pack. 

"We think we know why your magic exploded," Peter commented, sounding like he couldnt come up with a better word for what happened. 

Stiles looked at him expectantly, even as Peter layers meat and cheese on a slice of wheat bread. 

"The emissary was bleeding on the nemeton," Peter said, spreading mayo onto the other slice before slapping it down. "Back when the nemeton was looked after by druids, they made blood sacrifices to it, to give it power. 

"Its been centuries since then. The blood gave the nemeton a boost, and in turn, you got super charged."

Peter slid the sandwich over to Stiles, who took it in both hands and took a big bite. 

"It shouldn't happen again," Talia said beside him. Stiles glanced up at her, mouth still full. He didnt realize how hungry he was until he took the first bite. 

He barely swallowed the first bite before he took his second, cheeks puffing out as he chewed. Peter chuckled and shook his head, walking over to take Talia's spot when the alpha left for her office again. 

"You sure you're okay?" Peter asked, placing a hand on the back of Stiles' neck. Stiles leans into the touch, swallowing some of his food. 

"Tired," he managed. 

"Finish eating and we can go back to bed," Peter smirked. Stiles nodded, leaning forward to finish the other half of his sandwich. 

When he finishes, Peter takes him by the hand and leads him to the living room. Derek and Cora are watching a show, but they move to the smaller couch when they see how tired Stiles looks. 

Peter sits down first, back pressing to the arm rest and legs draped over the cushions. Stiles practically falls into his lap, face pressing into Peter's chest, his hips pressing into Peter's thighs. 

Peter pulls a blanket from the back of the couch and drapes it over the two, and Stiles falls asleep to the sound of Peter breathing, the thump-thump of his heartbeat soothing him. 

*-*

It takes Stiles the rest of the weekend to recover -he calls his dad to tell him he's sick and can't come, and he doesn't even have to try to sound sick, he's so tired he's practically slurring. 

On Monday, Laura drives Stiles and Derek to school. Stiles sticks close to Derek as they walk through the halls to their lockers -they're separated by one locker in between. Talia and his dad had talked to the office to get most of Derek and Stiles' classes together, and Talia was even listed as an emergency contact with the school. 

Stiles shoved his backpack into the locker, only carrying the books he needed for the first two classes before following Derek to homeroom. 

The day dragged by, like it usually did, and by lunch, Stiles wished he was back home. Harris was a dick as always, picking on Stiles and his lack of voice. Jackson still made the odd snide comment. Most of the kids he shared classes with were used to Stiles' silence, had followed him to the high school from middle school. 

The two boys grabbed their lunch treys and sat down at their regular table. Neither boy talked much -Derek mostly didn't talk because he was a poor conversationalist- so they didn't try to fill the empty space between them with words. 

At home, it was a different story, and Stiles was known for being pretty vocal with his packmates. He felt comfortable with them, in a way he hadn't felt since his mom died. 

They were just finishing up their lunch when a girl from their history class walked over, leaning her hip against the table and crossing her arms under her boobs. 

They weren't anything to write home about, Stiles noted, small and perky, yeah, but he'd seen bigger on Erica Reyes, who sometimes joined them during lunch. She wasn't here now, having a doctors appointment. 

"Hey, Derek," she greeted. Derek glanced up at her and smiled, acting like he hadn't heard the girl from the other side of the room. 

Stiles made a face while her attention was on the werewolf, and Derek promptly kicked him from under the table, never taking his eyes off the pretty girl. 

"I got a free period," the girl hedged. "Want to join me?"

Stiles grumbled under his breath, chugging the last of the chocolate milk from the carton. It tasted like cardboard and artificial flavoring. 

Derek's smile turned into a smirk and he nodded. "Sure," he answered before standing up. Stiles was used to people pretending he wasn't there at school. Derek got all the attention from both girl and boy. Stiles usually got a passing glance at best. 

"See you in science, Stiles," Derek grinned, standing up and picking up his trey. Stiles just rolled his eyes, waving him off. 

Stiles usually spends his free period in the library, so that's where he headed, yawning a bit as he pushed through the double doors. 

He spotted Laura in her study group and made his way over. She smiled at him, scooching over as Stiles dragged a chair over. 

"Hey, Stiles," a couple of the seniors greeted. Stiles just smiled, giving a small wave before settling beside Laura. 

There was a couple new people in the study group today, who eyed Stiles with frowns. Stiles just looked at them before pulling his homework out and setting it on the table. He liked doing his homework during free period, so he only had half the load when he got home at the end of the day. 

"Who're you?" One girl asked. She was blonde and pretty, shorter than Laura and Stiles from what he could tell, and definitely a little offended that a sophomore was sitting with them. 

Stiles wanted to roll his eyes. Seniors had sticks the size of flag poles up their asses. He didnt answer her though, just looked at her. 

"This is Stiles," Laura said, a little sharply. She could probably smell all the judgement wafting off of the blonde girl, and Stiles smiled a little to himself as Laura frowned at her. "My brother."

The blonde looked a little shocked, looking from Laura to Stiles. Stiles glanced at Laura, biting his lip to keep from smirking. They didn't look anything alike. 

The Hales were of Native American decent, with a bit of Celtic mixed in there. Their skin was tan, hair and eyes dark. Peter had the tanned skin, but his hair was much lighter than the rest of the Hales. Even Vivian -who Stiles knew was a cousin to Talia and Peter- had light hair. 

Stiles on the other hand, was strictly of Polish decent, his grandparents on both sides having migrated here before his parents were born. Stiles had pale skin, a sharp upturned nose, light brown eyes and dark hair. 

The two couldnt be any different, but everyone always introduced Stiles as a brother. 

"He's pretty cool," Donovan grunted, turning to the blonde. "Chill out."

The blonde huffed but returned to her book. Stiles smiled at Donovan, who smirked and winked before reading. 

Laura ran her hand through Stiles' hair and he grinned at her, bumping her shoulder before turning to his homework.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I found out Tyler Hoechlin has a bit of Native American in him, and since the actors/actresses who play the Hale family kind of all look the same I decided to give them the same background! 
> 
> I mixed in a little Irish/Scottish in there too, since Ian Bohen is Irish and German. I'm gonna assume Peter and Talia's parents or grandparents met and mixed and out popped Talia and Peter! 
> 
> I kind of left Talia's husband a mystery because I have no clue about him, but since Talia took on more of their native American features, her kids got them too. And if Peter ever had kids im sure they'd look a little more Irish, though when it comes to genetics its a guessing game, he could have a kid that looks like Cora. 
> 
> Anywho I tend to world build a little too much sometimes so just ignore me! 
> 
> Tell me what you think! This was kind of just a filler chapter, but the next chapter is gonna be a little longer, with kisses and magic and a little bit of panic!


	28. Chapter 28

"Peter?" Stiles asked softly, the room around them dark. He heard and felt Peter shift beside him, facing him in the dark. His eyes glowed blue, blinking at Stiles. 

"Yes, sweetheart," Peter hummed, just as quietly. Stiles wiggled a bit on his side, blushing a bit. He didnt know if he had the courage to actually ask, or suggest what he was about to. 

"Can- can we kiss more?" He asked, voice barely recognizable in his embarrassment. His heart was in his throat, trying to suffocate him with each thump-thump. The silence between them only lasted a second, but it was enough to give Stiles anxiety, and he shifted again. 

"I mean, I'm- I'm fifteen now, and everyone in school is kissing -well, more than kissing- and I-I know you think I'm too young, but its just kissing-"

"Stiles."

"Derek's had more action than I have and he's eight months younger than me," Stiles goes on. His voice might be raising a bit, but not enough that he's really speaking above the normal talking volume. "Which isn't fair because I'm pretty sure he lost his virginity last year, and I've only had one kiss and-"

This time Peter's hand landed on his chin, forcing Stiles' mouth shut. The werewolf chuckled and Stiles frowned, not pulling his chin out of Peter's grasp. 

"You want more kisses?" Peter asked, amusement coating his words. Stiles nodded, Peter's fingers brushing over his mouth. 

"Please?" He spoke, voice muffled. "It doesn't have to be big ones."

Peter smirked, finally removing his hand before rolling onto his stomach, one arm stretched out to cage Stiles in. 

"All you had to do was ask, sweetheart," Peter smirked. Stiles' eyes widened when the werewolf leaned down, kissing Stiles softly. 

It was just like the first kiss, soft pillow lips, no teeth, nothing more than the smacking of little suction when their lips parted. 

It wasnt like any of the kisses he's seen on TV, or caught Derek sharing with the kids in their grade. But it made Stiles' guts squirm anyway and smile like a loon. 

Peter settled back onto his side, curling an arm around Stiles and tugging. 

Stiles rolled onto his other side, moving back against Peter's chest. 

"Now, go to bed," Peter grunted, nosing at his neck. Stiles nodded, heart still racing and cheeks still flamed pink. 

When he woke up the next morning, he rushed to the shower, stepping under the hot stream. He chewed his lower lip, squirting a bit of shampoo into his hand before wrapping it around his cock. 

He worked himself up into a pant, his other hand reaching down to fondle his balls, squeezing and tugging. The water beat into his back, and he came hard, stifling a moan into his arm and stroking himself through the pulsing aftershocks. 

Once he's calmed, Stiles cleans himself, making sure he rinses the shower down before stepping out and towel drying himself. 

Peter's gone when he gets back to the room, and he pulls on his clothes before making his way downstairs to the kitchen. 

Its getting colder out, and Stiles can see the leaves changing. He sighs, yawning a bit before flopping onto the stool. 

"Pancakes?"

Stiles looks up at Vivian and nods, rubbing his eye before dropping his chin on his palm. Yesterday was exhausting. 

Stiles had been working on perfecting his magic. He could tell he was stronger than before, he knew more, could control more forms of magic. He wasn't perfect at it, and it still had a way of sizzling out when he was upset or scared, but he felt powerful. 

Yesterday he pushed himself too hard. Magic deficiency usually wasn't bad, but this morning, once he was awake enough to feel it, he just wanted to sleep. 

A stack of pancakes were shoved under his nose and Stiles smiled a bit before reaching for the jar of peanut butter and a knife. 

"You're disgusting," Laura gagged, walking in on him slathering his pancakes before dumping syrup on top. She fell into the seat beside him. 

"Its good," Stiles huffed, taking his knife and fork and cutting into the stack. 

"Syrup and peanut butter don't belong together," Laura commented, taking her own stack of pancakes and grabbing the bottle of syrup from Stiles. 

Stiles' mouth is full, so he can't retort back, so instead, he shocks her side and she yelps, eyes flashing blue before she slams the syrup down with a growl. 

"Knock it off, you termite."

Stiles opened his mouth, showing off chewed food. Laura made a choked noise, face turning away in disgust. Stiles laughed, chewing and swallowing. 

"You're disgusting, I don't know what uncle Peter sees in you," Laura grunts. Stiles just smirks, taking another bite just as Talia's office door opened and the two Hales stepped out. 

"Laura, be nice," Talia scolded, having heard. Stiles smirked at Laura, who gaped at her mother. Peter smirked too, arms crossed. Talia's eyes turned to Stiles' next and his smirk dropped. "And quit antagonizing her."

"She started it," Stiles grumbled, stabbing at his pancake and shoving it into his mouth. 

"I did not-"

Both Laura and Stiles get swift smacks to the back of their heads and Stiles nearly chokes on his pancakes while Laura yelps indignantly. 

Vivian is even laughing as she plates more pancakes. 

Stiles swallows so he can cough properly without food spraying across the countertop. Laura laughs at him when Talia leaves. Stiles glares before he turns to his other side, feeling a hand on his shoulder blade. 

"Good morning, sweetheart," Peter grinned down at him. 

"Mornin'," Stiles smiled back. He smiled wider when Peter leaned down and kissed him, soft lips and slight pressure. 

Peter hummed and pulled back, smirking. "You taste good."

Stiles almost choked again and he quickly licked his lips, tasting left over syrup even as Peter licks his own. Beside him, Laura grunts in disgust. 

Peter leans forward again and kisses him once more before taking the fork out of Stiles' hand and cutting into his pancakes. 

Stiles watches silently as Peter brings his fork up and bites down. His lower lip is shiny with sticky syrup and Stiles swallows thickly, blaming the peanut butter and syrup. Peter smirks and Laura gets up, rushing out of the room while complaining. 

Stiles blushes, dropping his eyes to his pancakes. Peter sets the fork down before ducking for another kiss. Stiles grins. 

"Thanks, sweetheart."

Stiles nods and then Peter's gone. Vivian smiles knowingly at Stiles, who ducks his head again and finishes his pancakes. 

Stiles wished he had asked Peter to kiss him more a long time ago, because it seemed like the werewolf wanted nothing more than to press their lips together. It made Stiles so happy, and horny and his stomach tied itself in knots every time. 

He finished his food before going upstairs to grab his backpack and shoes. He's stumbling down the stairs when he feels it, a sudden shift in the woods that makes him almost dizzy. 

He misses the last step but catches himself on the railing. Something dark entered their woods, and Stiles shivers a bit. 

"Everything okay?" Cora asked, passing him with her own bag on her shoulder. Stiles only shook his head, letting the bag fall from his shoulder and making his way to the back yard. 

"Stiles, what are you doing?" Talia asked when he passed her office. 

"He's being weird again," Cora answered for him. Stiles steps out onto the porch, scowling out at the trees. 

"Stiles," Talia calls. Stiles tears his eyes from the trees to look over his shoulder and sees Peter at the door too, with the rest of the pack trying to see past them. 

Stiles frowns, that dark cold feeling still there. "Somethings out there."

Peter breaks from his sister's side and walks over to him, lifting his nose and scenting the air. Stiles looks at him for a second before his eyes fall to the trees again. 

"What is it?" Peter asked softly at his side. Stiles shrugged, face scrunched in a scowl. Peter glances down at him. "Try to feel it."

Stiles frowns at him. "I can't," he said. He's never been able to feel what exactly it was, only what it felt like. 

"Yes you can," Peter said. "The nemeton knows everything that comes into these woods. You two are connected, so you can too."

Stiles looks back out towards the treeline before taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. He tries to focus on the feeling, pulling at his magic. 

He imagines the tulleric currents running the ground, all meeting at the nemeton, searching each current, collowing it to the edge of the territory before moving on. 

He doesn't know how he does it, but one second he's on the porch, and the next he's in the woods, following each current. He's floating, or maybe he's flying. The woods wizz past him in a blur, and he can feel the nemeton surrounding him. 

He pulls up sharp, heartbeat suddenly jackrabbiting in his chest, breath catching in his throat. 

"What is it, Stiles?" Its Peter, but his voice sounds far away, muffled. Stiles looks at the three of them, all making their way through the forest. 

He recognizes Deucalion right away, sunglasses on his face and a cane in hand. To his right is a large man who looked like he could break Stiles in half with his hands tied behind him, and to Deucalion's right is a woman, claws on her fingers and bare feet. Her eyes are alpha red, and she keeps her fangs out. 

The three are walking right towards him, and Stiles feels panic grip his chest. He stumbles back, not wanting them to see him, and hits a tree. 

No, softer than a tree, Stiles realizes. Hes not actually in the woods, he realizes. He's still on the porch. The three alphas walk right past him, talking, but Stiles can't hear them. 

"Stiles, talk to me," Peter orders in that muffled far away voice. 

"It's Deucalion," he breaths, his words barely above a whisper. "Theres three of them. They're headed this way."

Stiles moved forward, towards where the three alphas went, but again, he's not really touching the ground, more like gliding over it. He stops when he realizes he's not back at the porch now that that's where he wants to be. 

"Get me out," Stiles says, voice wobbling with panic. He doesn't know how to get back to the porch. He watches the three of them head for the Hale house, and his panic surges. What if he can't get back to the porch before they get there?

"Get me out," Stiles said again, voice higher with stress, and he spins around, looking for Peter. "Peter, help."

"Shh, its okay, I'm right here," Peter hushed, and Stiles feels Peter grab his arms, and he clings to it. "Take a deep breath."

Stiles does, eyes searching the woods around him. Peter sounds so far away. "Good boy, close your eyes, thats it. Another breath."

Stiles' hands are shaking. What if he's trapped here? Stuck in some astral projection. 

"Focus on yourself," Peter orders softly. Stiles squeezes his eyes tighter, dipping his head. "Pull all your magic back to your middle."

Stiles forces himself to calm down, to feel for his magic. He finds it at the surface of his skin, hot and liquid, and tries to push it down. 

Its difficult, and his panic isn't helping to speed up the process, but he manages, getting his spark into his chest, and then shoving it down deep into his stomach. 

Something changes, and Stiles snaps his eyes open, and Peter's there, looking worried. Stiles jolts forward, clinging to Peter with shaky arms. Peter hugs him right back, burying his nose into Stiles' shoulder. 

"There you are," he whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think?? 
> 
> I love Stiles and Laura's relationship so much!


	29. Chapter 29

"Vivian," Talia speaks, pulling the two back in. "I want you to take the pups, go into town and wait for me to call."

"What? Mom no, I want to stay," Laura yelps. Stiles can see Mark and Derek and even Mary looking upset as well, ready to protest. 

"You will do as I say," Talia snapped, eyes flashing red. Stiles shivered, holding Peter tightly. "Go with Vivian."

It takes a while, but they go. Stiles stays with Peter and the adults. There's nine of them, but Stiles knows that's not going to stop the three alphas. 

Stiles can stop them, if it comes to it, but he doesn't know if he'd be able to. He's never used his spark to harm anyone aside from shocking his packmates. 

Peter doesn't stop holding him, even when they make their way to the grass to wait for the alphas. 

Talia stands in front of everyone with Peter beside her, Stiles just behind his arm. He's tall enough now that he can hook his chin over Peter's shoulder. The others are all behind them, all beta shifted. 

Victor is the only one with yellow eyes in the pack -Peter explained that Victor was bitten, not born, which meant his eyes glowed yellow instead of beta blue. 

When the alphas step into the back yard, everyone tenses further. Peter pushes Stiles further behind him. 

"You're not welcome here," Talia growled. The three don't seem to care as they keep walking across the front yard. 

"I thought we were friends," Deucalions speaks, tisking as he smirks. Stiles' never seen Deucalion smirk, and it sends a shiver down Stiles' spine. 

"Maybe before," Talia said. "You need to leave."

"Where's the rest of your pack?" Deucalion asked, ignoring Talia's demand. "I only hear ten heartbeats, and if I remember correctly, there's sixteen members of the Hale pack."

"The pups are gone," the woman beside him informs, and Stiles shivers when her alpha red eyes land on him. "Except for one."

Peter growls as Deucalion smirks, folding up the cane. 

"Stiles, right?" He guesses. "Peter's mate. How old are you now, sixteen? Practically a man."

"You're not welcome on Hale land," Talia snapped, her beta shift looking terrifying. "Leave before things turn violent."

Deucalion and the man laugh. The woman rolls her eyes, glaring at Talia. 

"We're not here to fight with you, Talia," Deucalion shakes his head, looking amused. "We want you to join us."

The betas growl, and so does Talia. "You want me to kill my pack," she corrects. "And thats not going to happen."

"I told you," the girl snapped, head turned to look at her male companions. "Shes too soft."

"Hush, Kali," Deucalion ordered. Stiles finds Peter's clawed hand and slips his in. He feels the pricks of claws in the back of his hand, but they don't hurt. 

"It's not as bad as it seems," Deucalion said, head turned back to Talia. "Its actually quite... euphoric."

Stiles shivers at the smile on the three alphas' faces. He felt his fingers spark, felt Peter tighten his hold and Stiles took a deep breath. 

"I want you at my side, Talia," Deucalion continued. "You're a powerful alpha with a pack, but you could be so much more without."

Talia growled again, taking a step forward. Stiles wanted to take a step back, but knew that would be submitting to the other three. He forced himself to stay by Peter's side, worrying his lower lip. 

"Leave, before things get violent," Talia snapped. "You are no longer welcome on Hale land, and if any of you step foot in it again, we'll assume its an attack and act accordingly."

The man and Kali beside Deucalion growled, stepping forward as their beta shift rippled across their features. 

Deucalion just stood there, smirking a little. He lifted a hand, barely raising it past his elbow and the two alphas backed off. Stiles shuddered at the power that one gesture held. 

"We're not here to fight you, Talia," he said. Stiles wondered how long they'd talk before one of them got physical. Would one of the alphas attack first, or would the Hales?

"We were raised on the knowledge that a pack is stronger together than alone -that an alpha is stronger with a pack," Deucalion said, stepping forward. Peter made a noise in the back of his throat that had Stiles' breath hitching, it was so guttural and wild. A warning. 

"But I've learned, thats not true."

"Alpha Hale told you to leave," Victor bit out, his fangs making the words come out slurred, though Stiles still felt the venom. 

Deucalion looked straight at him, and Stiles felt his heart beat jackrabbit in his chest at the accuracy that man had. Slowly, he returned his blind gaze to Talia, who looked ready to rip his throat out. 

Stiles wondered why she didn't. Why they let him talk like a fanatic instead of running them off their territory, or killing them. 

"When I killed my beta, I became stronger in every way. You can be stronger too, Talia."

"I'm not killing my pack," Talia sneered. "You've got ten seconds to turn around and leave before I show you what power really looks like."

At that, the betas around them began snarling and growling, shifting to their beta form. Stiles, feeling coaxed but still frightened, let his spark leak from his fingers, the electric sound of electricity filling his ears as bolts of it zapped up his arms. 

He kept a tight hold of Peter's hand, magic not harming the werewolf at all. Stiles made sure of it. 

Deucalion smirked, but dropped his head and took a step back. "As you wish," he said. "But we will be back. I want you at my side."

Stiles didn't let his magic sizzle out until the wolves deemed the three were far enough away. Talia had Victor and another beta follow them at a safe distance until they left the territory. 

"Want me to call Vivian and being the pups back?" Peter asked. 

"No, I will," Talia sighed. Stiles was still shaken a bit, and she walked over to him, cupping his face in her hands and brushing his cheeks with her thumbs. Stiles practically melted in her hands. 

"Don't worry," she said, smiling softly. "Nothings going to happen." 

Stiles nodded, but he didn't believe her. She leaned forward and kissed his forehead before rubbing her cheek along the side of his head. 

Talia scented each of her betas before ushering them all inside. Peter curled an arm around Stiles' shoulders, pulling him close before kissing him softly. Stiles kissed back, stepping into his chest and wrapping his arms around his torso. 

"You did so good today, sweetheart," Peter praised when they pulled apart. Stiles blushed, but he shook his head, tucking it into Peter's shoulder as the older man held him. 

"I didn't," he muttered. "I got stuck, and- and I almost pissed myself."

Peter pulled back enough for Peter to look at him. They were still just inside the back door. He let out a shaky breath. Just three hours ago he was eating pancakes with peanut butter and syrup, playing with Laura and kissing Peter with sticky lips. It felt like days had passed. 

"Baby, you astral projected for the first time, without prior practice," Peter said, a small smile playing on his lips. "If you hadn't, we would've been caught unaware."

Stiles dropped his gaze, Peter's eyes too intense. Instead, he stepped back into his chest, wanting to just be held. 

They stayed like that until Vivian came back with the other pups. It was loud with shouts and questions and anxiety that just kind of fueled Stiles' own anxiety. 

He left the kitchen and walked into the living room, going straight for the bookshelf and reading the spines for the specific book he was looking for. 

Once he found it, he went up to his room, shutting the door quietly behind him before climbing into bed, sitting cross legged with the book on his lap. 

He wasnt going to let Deucalion bully Talia into killing her pack. Wasnt going to let the alphas kill the Hale pack, or the hunters. He was sick of people trying to kill his family -his pack. 

He read for hours, reread and took notes. His legs were sore from sitting in the same position for so long, but he didn't move, just kept reading. 

The book wasnt small by any means, and with being so thorough, he didnt get very far when Peter came in with a sandwich. 

"Break time, sweetheart," he hummed. Stiles protested when Peter took the book from him, replacing it with the plate. 

"I'm not done," Stiles said, reaching for the book. Peter lifted it out of his reach. 

"You get it back after you eat."

Stiles huffed, knowing he wouldn't win the argument. He eats and Peter sits down in front of him, thumbing through the book while keeping Stiles' page. 

"Protection spells?" Peter asked. Stiles was halfway done with his sandwich. He finished chewing and swallowed before nodding. 

"For you," he said softly. "And the pack."

Peter smiled, setting the book down on his lap before leaning forward and kissing Stiles' bread crummy lips. "Thank you, sweetheart," he smiled when he broke away. 

Stiles nodded and finished his food. Peter took the plate and returned the book, giving Stiles one last kiss before leaving the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here ya go! We get nightmares next chapter and Erica!


	30. Chapter 30

Stiles woke up to a strangled scream. He bolted upright in bed, the room dark. He looked out the window, feeling his heart hammering in his chest. Outside was blank, no trees, no sky or stars. It felt empty. 

Another scream sounded and Stiles turned to the door, feeling blindly beside him for Peter. 

There was nobody in the bed beside him. Stiles scrambled out of bed, hearing Cora's cry, her begging. He had to help. 

He swung the door open and stormed out into the hallway, only, the hallway was different, the wallpaper peeling, the picture frames hanging lopsided or smashed on the ground. The hardwood looked rotted, and all Stiles felt was evil, bad, wrong. 

"Peter," he called, running towards Cora's bedroom. He stopped dead at the door, feeling bile rise and his heart stop. 

The bed Cora slept on was soaked with blood. Too much blood. He stumbled back, seeing the lifeless lump under the soaked through blankets. 

"No, no, no, Cora!" 

Stiles slipped across the floor to Laura's room, and he choked on a sob. Her room looked like a TV show crime scene, blood sprayed across the walls, the carpet soaked. Laura was laying face down in a puddle of it, and he covered his mouth to keep from throwing up. 

He backed up into the wall, choking on sobs. Then he heard Derek shouting, and Stiles skidded across the floor, down the hall. 

"Derek!"

Derek was covered in blood, gasping for breath, being held up by his shirt. Stiles' eyes widened when he saw Talia turn her head too, eyes alpha red, blood covering her arms and mouth. 

"Stiles-" Derek choked. Talia grinned before turning back to Derek and using her claws to rip his throat out. 

Stiles' legs gave out and he stumbled back, landing on his ass. 

"You're next, little spark," Talia called out. Stiles spun around, frantically crawling to the stairs before stumbling down them. She'd gone feral. 

He got his feet under him and ran towards the front door, only to stop short when he saw Kali standing in the way, smirking. 

"Not this way."

Stiles spun around, running for the back door. The other alpha stood there, and he swung at Stiles with a clawed hand. 

"Peter!" He yelled, running into the living room. Peter was sitting in his chair, back facing Stiles. Stiles felt his blood run cold. Peter's chair faced the other way. 

"Peter," Stiles begged softly, sobbing as he took tentative steps towards him. The werewolf didn't move. 

Stiles reached out a shaking hand, terrified to touch, but needing to know. 

His fingers grasped Peter's shoulder, but the man didn't move. He walked around and gasped, yanking his hand away when he saw Peter, eyes staring unseeingly up at the ceiling, front slashed open from navel to rib cage. Blood and orgams spilled out onto his lap, soaking the floor and pooling in his shoes. 

"Peter!" He sobbed, knees buckling. He stumbled back, spinning around and running right into Talia. 

"There you are," she hummed. Stiles gasped, backpeddling. Talia stalked forward, hand quickly encircling his neck. 

Stiles gagged, hands lifting to grab at her wrist as Talia continued to walk him backwards. He hit a wall and Talia tightened her hold. 

"Deucalion was right," Talia smirked. It looked wrong. Her whole face looked wrong, and Stiles began to kick and scratch, his screams coming out strangled and gaspy. "I feel so powerful now. All thats left is you."

"Please," Stiles choked, tears spilling over his cheeks. "Please don't."

"It won't hurt," Talia grinned. Stiles kicked harder, and then Talia's clawed fingers were pressing into Stiles' chest, piercing through the skin and grinding against bone. 

Stiles screamed, running out of breath as Talia's other hand tightened around his throat. 

"Stiles," she scorned, tisking her tongue. Her claws pushed in deeper and Stiles kicked at her with all the strength he had, choking on air that wouldn't enter his lungs. 

"Stiles," Talia growled when Stiles fought harder. Stiles pinched his eyes shut, mouth open on a silent plea, dull fingernails digging into her skin, shoving at her face, doing anything he could to get her off. 

"Stiles!"

Stiles woke up yelling and kicking. He was pinned to the bed, and Peter was on top of him, pinning his thighs down. 

Stiles sucked in a breath and sobbed, body trembling. He tugged at his hands lifting his shoulders off the mattress. 

Peter let him go, collecting Stiles up to his chest and hushing him. Stiles' tears wracked his body, and he couldn't be quiet about it. He shoved his mouth up against Peter's shoulder, trying to quiet himself. 

"Shh, baby, its okay," Peter whispered, rubbing his back and cupping the back of his head. "You're okay, shh."

"Peter," he choked out, grasping at the back of Peter's shirt, wanting him closer, needing to know he was okay. That it had all just been a nightmare. 

"I'm right here," Peter hushed. 

"Please, Peter," Stiles gasped, holding the werewolf as tightly as he could. 

"I'm right here, sweetheart," Peter repeated. He leaned back, grabbing Stiles' face and thumbing the tears away. "Its just a bad dream, you're okay."

Stiles pinched his eyes closed, taking deep breaths. "There you go, its alright." Stiles moved his hands to Peter's front, pressing his palm into Peter's stomach, the skin smooth under the shirt. 

"You okay?"

Stiles took in a shaky breath, wanting Peter to not let him go. He didnt answer the werewolf, just leaned into him. 

Peter rumbled lowly in his chest, straddling Stiles' lap and rubbing Stiles' back and arms until Stiles was nothing more than sniffling. 

"Csn you sleep some more?" Peter asked, voice so soft. Stiles didn't answer again, but he shifted a bit. Peter moved to his side as Stiles laid down, tucking himself into Peter's front. 

"J-just hold me please," Stiles croaked out. 

"Of course," Peter said, kissing Stiles' forehead and pulling him closer. He didnt think he'd fall asleep so fast, held safely to his mate's chest. 

*-*

Stiles had been anxious all day at school. He hated being away from Peter. His mind ran away with different horrible situations. The alphas coming back and killing the pack while he wasn't there, the hunters catching them off guard while on patrols. 

He couldn't focus on his classes, and was even more quiet than normal with Derek, though Derek seemed to be just as worried. He even turned down three people who wanted to get freaky in the supply closet. 

They'd just made it to lunch, and Derek tugged Stiles towards their normal table. Erica was there today. Issac and Boyd had a different lunch period, so they didn't get to sit with them. 

"Hey," Erica greeted with a small smile. Stiles sat down next to her, not saying a word. 

"Hey, Erica," Derek smiled, sitting across from her. Stiles wasn't really hungry. He wanted nothing more than to have his book with him to read, but he didnt want Erica asking questions. Peter had told him the books in the living room stayed in the house. 

So Stiles contended himself with chewing his food slowly, listening to Erica and Derek talk. Erica was like Stiles, picked on and outcasted for being different. 

Derek was the popular one out of the three, but he wasn't Jackson Whittemore popular. He played basketball, he was good looking, and he was easy. 

The only thing that kept Derek from sitting at Jackson's table was Stiles. Neither boy cared much about popularity, so Stiles didnt feel bad that Derek was an outcast by association. 

Erica had epilepsy, and it was pretty bad. Derek could smell when it was coming on, and usually got her somewhere where no one else was before it happened. Stiles could sense it too. 

Even humans had sparks, little, barely there sparks of life. It was just strong enough for Stiles to feel if he focused hard enough. Erica's was fragile, weak and fluttering. He worried about her sometimes, but he didnt know what to do for her. 

He had his pack to worry about, the alphas and the hunters. He couldn't actively worry about Erica too, even if that made him an asshole for it. 

But he thought of her as a friend, even if the two didn't talk. Well, Stiles didnt talk, but Erica did. 

The only people Stiles talked to at school was Derek, Issac and Boyd. It had taken him a while to get to that point, and Peter and his dad had been so proud of him when he had brought them home and talked in front of them. 

They didn't expect him to talk around other people, but they didn't change how they acted around him, and that made Stiles happy. 

Stiles didnt realize he was scratching at the skin of the back of his hand until Derek brushed his fingers away. 

"Stop that," he grunted. Stiles blinked, looking down at his hand, which was red with irritation before huffing and folding his arms. 

"You okay, Stiles?" Erica asked. Stiles only nodded, dropping his chin on the cross of his arms. Derek gave him a look before turning his gaze to Erica. 

"He just wants to be with my uncle," he said. Stiles dropped his eyebrows, kicking Derek under the table. Derek raised an eyebrow challenging him to correct him. Stiles kept his mouth shut. 

"Your uncle?"

"Stiles' soulmate," Derek corrected with a shrug. Stiles tucked his face into his arms. He wasn't about to deny it, but damn it Derek, way to make him sound like a clingy teenager. 

"Thats gotta be weird," Erica smiles. Stiles can't help but laugh a little, his shoulders shaking as he lifted his head. Derek looks disgusted. 

"It is," he grunts, making Stiles' laugh turn vocal. He slaps his hands over his mouth and Erica's eyes widen a little, but she's still grinning and Stiles drops his face into the table and keeps laughing. 

He was definitely telling Peter. As soon as school was out -which couldn't come soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada!! Guys I'm already writing chapter 50! This is by far my longest book!!


	31. Chapter 31

Stiles barely waits for the car to come to a stop before he's stumbling out of the car, nearly falling flat on his face. Its a miracle he manages to catch himself, using hands to push himself back up before rushing for the front door.

Peter's in the living room, sitting in his chair and reading about law. Peter lifts the book out of the way without pulling his eyes from the page and Stiles practically swan dives into his chest. 

"Hello, sweetheart," Peter grins, snapping the book shut. Stiles smiles and lifts his head, leaning forward and kissing him just as Derek and Laura walk in. 

"Derek thinks its gross that we're soulmates," Stiles grins. 

"Does he now?" Peter grins back, mischief in his ice blue eyes. He turns to look at Derek, whos glaring at Stiles while also making a disgusted face. Stiles sits smugly on Peter's lap and Peter laughs. 

"How can you find him even slightly attractive?" Derek blanched. Stiles grins, fighting his blush. He doesn't look at Peter, too worried he'll loose his cool and turn into a stammering tomato. He's trying to gross Derek out, and that won't happen if Stiles looses his cool. 

"He's more attractive than you are," he snaps. Derek's face pinches and he scoffs. 

"Thanks," Peter hums. Laura laughs, slapping Derek on the back before taking off. 

"You're welc-" Stiles yelps and flails when Peter leans forward, attacking him in front of Derek. 

Stiles' yelp of surprise turns into a laughing mess as Peter presses loud smacking kisses across his face, holding Stiles down on his lap, but making sure the long limbed boy didn't land on the floor. 

Its a lot more awkward for Stiles to curl up on his soulmate's chest now that he's a couple inches shorter than the werewolf, but neither care. 

Peter stops with a deep laugh when Derek gags and leaves. Stiles is still laying on Peter's knees, head and shoulders dangling in the air. One of his legs is hooked over the arm of the chair, while the other is dropped, foot planted on the floor. 

He sucks in a breath, calming himself down from the laughing fit, then goes limp. Peter grunts, and Stiles smiles, head inches from brushing against the floor. 

"Hey, Peter?" He hums, not lifting his head. 

"Yes, sweetheart?" Peter's fingers have found the patch of skin on his belly from where his shirt pulled up and lightly tickles the skin just under his belly button. Stiles almost sits up, but he stays draped over Peter like a rag doll. 

"Do you think I could get my license before the alphas come back?" He asked the floor. "You know, hit a milestone before potentially being murdered?"

Peter's fingers stop their light brushing against his skin, and he sighs. "Is this about your nightmare?"

Stiles chews his lip and his finger starts incessantly tapping on Peter's thigh. Its an indicator that he's anxious and thinking too hard and slightly afraid and maybe a bit hesitant, and Peter knows it. 

With no help from Stiles, Peter lifts him up into a seated position. Stiles blinks and lets out a little grunt. Both wait for Stiles' head to right itself. 

Peter doesn't say anything, but his eyebrows are telling Stiles he's waiting for him to answer the werewolf's question. 

"I'm not a pessimist," Stiles started out with, which had Peter cocking an eyebrow but again, staying quiet. Stiles huffs. "Its just, with the hunters and the alphas and everyone trying to kill everyone else, it kind of got me thinking and I really don't want to die without doing things I wanna do first."

"Like getting your license," Peter nodded. Stiles nodded too, kind of glad he didn't have to try and get the werewolf to understand. Sometimes what made sense in Stiles' mind made no sense to everyone else. 

"Yeah," he said softly. "I'm trying to keep everyone from dying, but at the same time I want to do things in case I'm not strong enough."

Peter sighed, but Stiles knew he understood. He always seemed to understand Stiles, even when Stiles refused to use his words. He wondered if it was a Peter thing, or a soulmate thing. 

"I think we can get your license early if we practiced more," Peter said after a while, hand rubbing along Stiles' back. Stiles gave a small smile of thanks, but getting his license wasn't the only thing he wanted, and he nervously fiddled with his hands, trying to build up the courage to ask for more. 

"I don't want to die a virgin either," he said softly, so softly he almost didn't even hear himself, and he refused to look up at Peter, even as the man stilled underneath him. 

It wasnt exactly news to the werewolf, Stiles knew. No thirteen year old kid was having sex outside of movies and TV shows. At least no thirteen year old kid Stiles had ever met. Derek was different, he conceded. 

He was fourteen when he lost his virginity -you don't just get half the school pining for you for just kissing, Derek- but he was also a werewolf and was extremely good looking for a freshman. 

They were sophomores now, and the whole grade knew Derek put out. He was easy in a way that didn't make him sleazy, like, he was super sweet and made his partners feel appreciated and all that. There was no judgement on Stiles' end, but he teased the werewolf relentlessly about it. 

Mostly because Stiles himself hadn't been lucky in the sexy time department. He knew it was because Peter still thought of him as a child, and he wasnt! Not anymore at least. Stiles would be sixteen in a few months. Well, a few months being exactly six months. 

"I think we can work on that too." Peter's voice brought Stiles back to the present. He blinked, head jerking up to meet Peter's eyes even as his heartbeat sped up at the implications. 

"Yeah?" Stiles breathed. Peter smirked a bit and nodded. Stiles felt his cheeks tinge pink and he quickly looked away, clearing his throat. 

Peter chuckles and forces Stiles to lift his head with a single finger to his chin. Stiles easily falls into the kiss the werewolf initiats, heart hammering in his chest. 

Stiles doesn't care that Talia's in her office, or that there are other werewolves close by, he's too focused on Peter and how good he makes him feel. 

He didnt know what Peter wanted, so he followed the 'wolf's lead. Which didn't lead anywhere. All Peter did was kiss him, the same way he'd done before. All soft lips and pressure. 

Stiles frowned a little and pulled away enough to look at Peter. "When?" He asked. 

Peter just smirked though, pecking Stiles' lips again before patting his thigh in an 'all done' kind of way. 

"Not now, sweetheart," he said, amused. It made Stiles frown a little more. "Homework, dinner, practice, bed."

Stiles huffed, shoulders sagging, but he reluctantly nodded. Peter patted his thigh before leaning forward. 

Stiles was expecting another kiss, but what he got was Peter nuzzling into the side of his neck, brushing the prickly skin of his jaw against Stiles' neck. 

Stiles couldnt help smiling and curled his arms around Peter's shoulders, nuzzling him back. He didnt have the nose of a 'wolf, but he liked that he smelled like Peter and the pack to other werewolves. 

He had picked up a few werewolf mannerisms. Scenting was one of them. After the side of Stiles' neck is properly raw from beard burn, Peter shoves him off. Stiles grunts and makes his way upstairs to get started on his homework.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I needed a cute chapter after the last one so here you guys go!! Next chapter we get a little steamy!!


	32. Chapter 32

Stiles wakes up with the side of his face pressed into his pillow, arms folded underneath. He shifts a bit, but he's too tired to wake up all the way, so he stuffs the rest of his face into the pillow and exhales. 

Its too damn early, and Stiles can feel his heard on pressed against his stomach. He lets out a little sigh, reaching for his face and rubbing his eyes. It's Friday, which means his dad is picking him up from school. 

He lays there for a second longer before he decides its time to shower. He can feel Peter beside him, and hopes he's still asleep. 

He hasn't quite managed to roll over to his side when a pair of arms wrap around his middle. Stiles grunts as Peter pulls him into his chest. 

"Peter," he grunted, voice heavy with sleep. "Let me up."

Peter chuckled against his neck, pressing a kiss to the skin just below Stiles' ear. That was new. Stiles sucked in his lower lip, willing his dick to just go away on its own for once. 

"Hmm, no," Peter growled, nosing at Stiles' jaw. Stiles let out a noise and then Peter was forcing Stiles down onto his back. Stiles really hopes his dick goes unnoticed. 

The two talked about it briefly -and by briefly Stiles means literally not at all. Peter acknowledged Stiles wanted to take their relationship further, but hadn't done anything about it in three days. 

Stiles figured Peter still thought he was too young. Stiles was sometimes really jealous of Derek. 

Peter kissed him on the mouth, and although Stiles was borderline mortified at being caught with a hard on, he kissed him back. 

Stiles was good at kissing Peter. It wasnt hard to mess it up. But this morning, Peter did something Stiles really wasn't expecting and opened his mouth. 

Stiles' eyes opened, his breath hitching at the feel of Peter dragging the inside of his lower lip across his mouth, feeling his teeth grazing against him. 

"Let me in, baby," Peter growl-whispered against Stiles' mouth. It was the hottest thing Stiles had ever heard, and his cock throbbed, pinned in his underwear and sweat pants. 

Stiles did as he was told, letting his jaw relax, his lips parting. Peter didnt waste time. He tilted his head a bit and ran his tongue along the seam of Stiles' mouth, practically licking the front of his teeth. 

God, Stiles might've blacked out. He definitely wasn't breathing. Peter didn't wait for Stiles to recover before he was kissing him, this time while working his jaw and licking at Stiles' teeth. 

Stiles let out another grunt, chest heaving. He finally got his own lips moving. He's alow on the uptake, and he's not really sure what he's doing -its one thing seeing it happening and another to actually do it. 

"There you go," Peter hums against his mouth, and Stiles feels his skin alight with magic -or goosebumps, Stiles can't tell and he doesn't want to pull away from Peter to find out. 

They kiss like that for what feels like forever but not long enough, and its not long at all before Stiles gets the balls to push his tongue against Peter's. 

Its a tentative lick, and he only really does it because Peter's tongue is already in his mouth. Peter rumbled lowly, and then Peter's pulling away, and there's a definite string of spit connecting their mouths together. 

Stiles licks his lower lip -which tingles a bit- and the line is broken. Peter smirks, his own lips slightly swollen and pinker than usual, but they don't stay that way for long. 

"What was that for?" Stiles rasps, and his voice has never sounded so gruff and low in his life. Peter smirks and his eyes flash blue. 

"This is us working on it, sweetheart," he hums, and Stiles didn't think his cheeks could burn more than they already had. 

Stiles lifts his head a bit, silently demanding more, and Peter easily lowers back down to kiss him. Stiles brings his hands up, grabbing Peter's jaw, feeling him open and close his mouth against Stiles'.

Its seconds later when Stiles realizes he's extremely close to cumming in his pants. Peter isn't even touching him aside from the hand on his ribs! Stiles lets out a little grunt, but doesn't pull away from Peter. 

He shouldn't cum just from kissing, he thinks. He can pull it back, think of something else. Stiles knows he's still a teenager, but he doesn't think he's gonna burst in his boxers just because Peter is licking into his mouth. 

And then he actually is cumming in his pants. Stiles has mere seconds and he pulls away from Peter's lips, eyes widening. "Wait, Peter-"

His words die with a whine, his face screwing up and breath hitching. He can feel his boxers growing hot and wet, and buries his face in Peter's closest shoulder in mortification. 

Peter rumbles deep in his chest and he practically rolls on top of Stiles, mouth finding the side of Stiles' neck. Stiles shuddered, feeling Peter's hand move lower on his side, then shifting to his front, right over his cock and his growing wet spot. 

"Look at you," Peter practically growls, his hand a firm pressure on Stiles' crotch. He buries his face further in embarrassment, wanting to roll up into a ball and let the blankets swallow him up. 

"M'sorry," he mumbled, voice muffled in Peter's shirt. "Didn't mean to do that."

Peter just huffed into his neck, nosing at the skin under his ear. His hand rubs and Stiles bites at his lip at how sensitive he feels. 

"Don't be sorry, sweetheart," Peter hums, finally pulling away. He forces Stiles out of his shoulder and kisses him softly on the lips. He removes his hand and Stiles breaths a little easier. 

"Don't be embarrassed," Peter said, smirking. "I love that I can get you off without touching you."

Stiles sucks in a breath a little too sharply and nearly chokes. Peter laughs and kisses his bright red cheeks, brushing his nose against Stiles'. 

And then Peter is standing up, and Stiles' eyes zero in on the bulge in his own sweat pants. Stiles sits up, not tearing his eyes off until Peter turns his back to him. 

Stiles clears his throat, looking down at his lap and wincing a bit. His boxers were sticky, wet and warm. 

Clothes are thrown at his head and Stiles yelps a bit, grabbing them and yanking them off before looking up at Peter. 

"Go shower, sweetheart," he said, nodding for the bathroom door. "Laura's gonna leave in forty minutes."

Stiles climbs out of bed, practically waddling to the bathroom to keep his thighs and as much of his crotch out of the wet as he can. Peter chuckles as he watches him go, and Stiles slams the bathroom door shut. 

Everyone can smell it when Stiles goes down for a quick breakfast. Talia gives him a look that ensures a talk is in Stiles' near future. Laura, Derek and Cora all look ready to hurl. Victor had blinked at him, Vivian had smacked Victor into leaving. This was why Stiles jerked off in the shower -so the water washed it away before it could really stick to his skin. 

Stiles' embarrassment is heightened further when Laura has all the windows down. Its October -almost Peter's twenty-fifth birthday and Halloween- so its pretty cold. Stiles doesn't say anything to them, just hugs his coat closer to himself. 

He kind of wished he didnt have to go to his dad's house this weekend. He wanted to be with Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We got kissing!! Actual kissing this time! This was a fun chapter to write, and I hope you guys like it! There's not going to be any drama for the next couple chapters, so yay for you!! 
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	33. Chapter 33

At school, Stiles sticks close to Derek, and during his free period, he sits with Laura. The blonde girl is still in their study group, but she hasn't said anything against Stiles being there. 

Its difficult while at school to keep his mind off of the alpha threat. He worries -to himself- about Talia. 

Stiles didnt know Deucalion at all, but he had heard stories, had known the werewolf had been for peace before he lost his sight. If someone so calm and collected and so focused on future peace could fall so far and kill his whole pack, whats to stop Talia from doing the same?

And Talia could be stronger. So much stronger than the three alphas if she did kill them all. 

The Hale pack was small, sixteen including Stiles himself, but Stiles was powerful. More powerful than any beta the alphas could've killed. If Talia killed her pack -Stiles included- she'd be so much more powerful than Deucalion. 

Derek and Laura stay with him at the front of the school until the sheriff's car pulls up, and after a quick hug where Laura rubs her cheek against his hair -she's taller than Stiles by a few inches- and Derek nuzzles his shoulder, Stiles climbs into the passenger seat and the two Stilinski's head for the station. 

Homework is done at an empty desk just outside the sheriff's office. Stiles works best with noise, so he's not bothered by the constant chatter, the sounds of clacking keyboards, perking coffee, phones ringing, shoes scuffing linoleum, threats shouted from down the hall. 

It all melds into a single white noise. Peter had taught him control. He taught with a 'wolf's perspective, but Stiles found the effect was the same. 

Stiles learned how to hone in his magic the way 'wolves learned to focus their senses. Peter taught Stiles how to control which magic he wanted to use the same way the werewolf had been taught to only unsheath his claws or flash his eyes. 

Stiles was more 'wolf than spark, he thinks. He acts like a 'wolf, thinks like a 'wolf. He scents and he joins puppy piles. 

He was never a tactile kid -something he regretted a lot after his mom died- but being surrounded by pack, by people who used touch as a way to comfort and communicate, it rubbed off on Stiles. 

Werewolves used their hearing and sense of smell the most. They listened to heart beats, to little blips of lies. They could tell the difference between growls -Stiles was still learning. 

Sometimes Stiles forgot most people -humans- relied more on sight when collecting information. Stiles is so used to smell and sound. 

His dad sometimes gives him strange looks when Stiles nuzzles against him, or finds moments to touch him. Its hard to break that habit, and he doesn't want to. 

John takes Stiles through the drive-thru on the way home and the two of them eat at the couch. Stiles likes it better when he's eating at the table with the pack. He doesn't like having to balance his meals on his knees. 

They watch TV in silence. Stiles isn't much of a talker, John knows. He talks when he wants to, so Stiles doesn't feel like he needs to fill the empty spaces and John doesn't try to. 

When its time for bed, Stiles hugs his dad tight, brushes his cheek against John's shoulder like he does every time, and then the two of them part at their separate bedroom doors. 

Stiles shuts the door with a soft snick before climbing into bed. He doesn't have his pillow tonight. He had been a little distracted this morning with kissing Peter and forgot to shove it into his bag. 

So he tosses and turns, huffs and grunts and finally, he sits up and turns on the bedside lamp. 

His old bedroom looks more like a guest room now. The toys and books that Stiles grew out of had been donated years ago. Hes got clothes here, and an old laptop on the desk. There's a few books his dad put on the shelves, a baseball bat in the corner with a glove and ball beside it. 

Its impersonal aside from the picture frames. Two of them. Stiles doesn't have the heart to touch them. One is of the three of them -Stiles, his mom and his dad. 

They'd gone to Disney land together a few years before Stiles' mom got sick. Stiles was in cargo shorts and a mickey mouse shirt with the sleeves cut off. His mom was in a sun dress with mouse ears on her head, and his dad was wearing jeans and an orange tshirt with a jean blue hat. 

The second picture was a more recent one. At their last Thanksgiving. Stiles was sitting beside his dad and Derek. They were mid laugh, Stiles with his mouth wide open, looking off to the right. John had his head dropped, but you could still see his face. Derek looked disgusted. 

Peter had taken the picture from across the table just after Laura accidentally dumped half the container of salt on her mashed potatoes. 

Stiles has his own pictures at his house. In his room with Peter. Where his comic books have their own space next to Peter's fiction. Where their night stands have matching phone chargers. Where Stiles' pillow is. 

He huffs and moves from the bed to the desk, flopping down onto the chair and flicking the laptop open. He powers it up and decides to play a couple rounds of solitaire. Maybe if he stays up until he's ready to fall over he'll actually get to sleep tonight. 

He's still on the first game when there's a soft tapping on his window. Stiles frowns and spins in his chair to see. He smiles when he sees Peter and quickly rushes to the window and yanks it open. 

"You left your pillow," Peter said once Stiles is on his knees, elbows pressing into the windowsill. 

Peter hands the pillow over and Stiles quickly buries his face into it, inhaling Peter's shampoo and cologne. 

"Thanks," Stiles grins, pulling his face away to look at the werewolf currently squatting on his roof. Stiles isn't worried about his dad walking in on them. He knows Peter will hear if the man even shifts in his sleep. 

"You're welcome," Peter smiles, his hand finding Stiles' face and running fingers along his jaw. 

"Can you come in?" Stiles asked, voice soft just in case. Peter only nods, so Stiles climbs to his feet and steps back. Peter climbs in through the window with the liquid ease only Peter can pull off. 

When he's standing fully, Stiles walks into his chest, lifting his chin. Peter smiles and wraps his arms around him, pinning the pillow between them and kisses him. 

Stiles smiles when they pull away and grabs Peter's hand, tugging him to the bed. With his pillow tucked under his head, Stiles knows he'll fall asleep fast, but Peter's here. 

"Stay a little?"

Peter climbs over Stiles to the other side of the bed, laying over the blankets and holding Stiles close, nuzzling into his neck. 

"Just until you fall asleep," Peter said. Stiles nodded, snuggling deeper into Peter's chest, the two of them facing the rest of the bedroom. Stiles locks their fingers together and closes his eyes. 

He doesn't think he fell asleep until he wakes up in the morning. Peter's gone and the window is closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to double post today! Here's some more cutsy steter bits for you! I got a couple comments the last chapter so I thought I'd clear it up a bit in case you guys didn't notice when I put it in my notes before!
> 
> I'm posting chapter 33, but I currently have 52 chapters written, so I can't really do anything about changing the chapters up -putting in different points of views for certain events or add things in- without ruining all the other 20 chapters I have written. 
> 
> I'm all for explaining things if you guys ask, and I did promise I would warn a couple commenters when we get to the fire so they can stop reading, but please don't be mad at me for not writing your requests in following chapters, because the chapter was written long before you'll read it. 
> 
> I'm not meaning to come off as mean so if I do I'm sorry, I just wanted to address it in case some readers got upset about it! Let me know what you guys think, and remember I do really like your comments and I try to interact with you guys as often as I can!!


	34. Part 1

Peter's birthday happens on a Monday. There's cake and ice cream -mostly for the younger betas- and a couple presents. 

Stiles -with his dad's help and credit card- gets Peter the Fast and Furious movie collection and a little toy Dodge Charger. 

Peter laughs loudly when he opens it and pulls Stiles into his lap to kiss him thank you. Stiles just grins widely, glad he'd picked something out that Peter would like. 

The guy was kind of obsessed with car movies, and he bought the 1970 Dodge Charger. They joked that he got it because it was Vin Diesel's car in the series, but Stiles thinks it might actually be the reason he got it. 

Stiles wasn't judging though, he wanted a 1967 Chevy Impala for reasons he refused to share with anyone in the pack. Stiles didnt need critics poking holes in the logic of his favorite show. 

Victor and Talia makes Peter's favorite dinner -steak and potatoes with carrots and broccoli because the guy's a stereotype- and everyone forgets about the alphas and the hunters for a couple hours. 

Its late when they go to bed. Peter brings his gifts up to his room, and Stiles preens when he puts the toy car on his bookshelf beside a picture of the pack. 

Stiles changes into his pajamas and crawls into bed, yawning a bit, but not laying down. He sits with his back pressed into the headboard, back slouched in a position that'll either make his ass go numb or twinge his lower back if he stays that way. 

He grabs the book on protection magic from his nightstand and flips it to the page he was last on. The book is more of a tome, thicker than an encyclopedia. Its taking Stiles much longer to read through than he had first thought. 

Peter gets dressed too and turns off the main light. Stiles can still read from the light on the nightstand. 

"Study later, Stiles," Peter huffs, sitting at the end of Stiles' bent legs. "So I can open my last present."

Stiles frowns down at the page he's reading and lifts his gaze. "What present?" Stiles asked, first taking in Peter's smirk before looking around for a missed present. 

When Stiles looks back at Peter, the werewolf moves forward, kneeling over Stiles' bent legs and kissing him. 

He pulls back and takes the book out of Stiles' hands, setting it to the side. "Study later. I want to taste you."

"Wh-what?" Stiles squeaks. Peter grabs Stiles' ankles and pulls until Stiles' legs are flat on the bed, one calf on either side of Peter. 

"Do you want me to?" Peter asked, quirking a brow. Stiles' brain fries and he gapes a bit like a fish before he nods frantically. 

Peter smirks and leans forward, kissing Stiles again. Stiles just stares at Peter when he pulls away again, and he's grabbing Stiles' pajama pants and giving a small tug. 

Stiles can't think to do anything but lift his hips a little, and then Peter is tugging both his pants and his boxers down. His shirt is hiding his cock, which is slowly getting hard, and Stiles' breath hitched. 

Peter was really going to do this. Peter wanted to taste Stiles. This would be Stiles' first time -did this count as him losing his virginity? Did Stiles count this?

Once his pants are off and tossed to the floor, Peter leans forward, and Stiles instinctively wants to crawl away. 

There's something animalistic in Stiles' brain that screams there's a predator coming for his valuables and he needs to cover up. But its Peter, and before Stiles covered himself with his hands or a blanket or just yanking his legs up to his chest, Peter is kissing his knee. 

He kisses up Stiles' legs, alternatively moving from left to right until he's laying on his stomach and Stiles is forced to spreak his thighs to accommodate him. 

Stiles had his arms pressed into his chest, hands held under his chin as he watched Peter kiss the inside of his thigh, snake his arms under Stiles' legs and hold his waist. 

Stiles shuddered when Peter mouthed at his cock, still covered in his shirt. "Peter," he breathed, feeling the hot damp breath warm his shirt. He wasn't going to last long, which was embarrassing already. 

Stiles shifted his hips, his hands falling to the bed on either side of him. Peter nosed at the outline of his cock and Stiles let out a little whimper, goosebumps raising across his skin. 

"Do you know how much I've wanted to do this?" Peter asked -practically moaned- against Stiles. Stiles swallowed thickly and shook his head, chewing his lip to keep from drooling or crying. 

Peter ran his mouth along Stiles' shaft, up to the tip and just fucking breathing on him. 

"I have to stop myself from climbing into the shower with you every morning," Peter confesses. "Listening to your little whimpers and moans."

Stiles moans now, feeling Peter move back down his shaft and press the tip of his nose into the space between balls and cock. 

Finally, Peter lifts Stiles' shirt up with a hand, and Stiles can see his cock head is dark and leaking, and he closes his eyes and lifts his chin until his head thunks against the headboard. 

At first, Peter only mouths at his shaft, hot breath and damp air. But then he has Stiles' tip in his mouth and Stiles' head snaps forward and his hands automatically fly to his crotch -which, Peter's head is in the way, so he ends up with two fistfulls of his dark blonde hair. 

Peter's mouth is hot and wet, and Stiles never expected it to feel like that in his life. Peter hums against him, taking more of him in, more and more until Stiles feels the back of his throat. 

Peter doesn't even gag, and Stiles doesn't know if its a werewolf thing or if Peter's just done this a lot, but Stiles sees stars. 

"Peter," he gasps out, inhaling loudly when Peter applied a bit of suction. 

Stiles usually lasted more than a minute when he jerked off in the shower. He could go four minutes before shooting his load -which was still embarrassingly fast- but Stiles was maybe ten seconds in, and already felt his balls tighten with the need to release. 

"Peter, Peter," Stiles whines, gripping his hair tightly and shifting on his ass. Thankfully, Peter pulled off, but he only smirked up at Stiles, lips pink and glistening with spit. 

"You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?" He asked, and Stiles almost did just then. He whimpered and managed to untangle his hand from Peter's hair. He grabs his dick and squeezes, staving off a very embarrassing orgasm. 

"Peter, please," Stiles moaned, and he really didn't know what he was begging for. Peter grabbed Stiles' hand, threading their fingers together before taking Stiles back into his mouth. 

There's not much Stiles can do when his orgasm rocks through him only seconds later. He whimpers, a reedy little moan leaving his throat. 

Peter doesn't pull away, just holds Stiles' cock in his mouth, tongue pressed into the underside of his head. Stiles cums in thick spurts, and his whole body tenses with it, his hand gripping Peter's tightly. 

When he comes down and can finally take in a deep breath, Peter pulls off, and Stiles blinks down at him when he licks his slick lips. 

"You taste just as good as you smell, baby," he grins, and Stiles blushes so hard his cheeks hurt. 

"Can you kiss me now?" Stiles asks, wanting very much to be back in comfortable territory. Not that blow job's were uncomfortable, but Stiles knew kissing, was used to it. 

Peter only smiled, moving to kneel between Stiles' knees. "You want to kiss me after I sucked you off?" Peter asked, smile widening. 

Stiles makes a noise in the back of his throat at how lewd it sounded. 

"Please," Stiles said instead. Peter leaned forward and kissed him. Stiles let the werewolf push his tongue against his teeth and pushed back with his own. 

The taste was weird, salty and bitter, but Stiles kissed him anyway, curling his arms around Peter's shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a two parter! Let me know what you guys think. 
> 
> Also, I've been getting a couple comments I don't really appreciate, and I'd like to address them. If you don't like how I write, how I'm pacing the story or the length of my chapters, then you can leave. Negative commenters ruin it for everyone else so from now on they're going to be blocked. 
> 
> I don't like being negative in my notes, I want us all to have a good time here, but I don't like people commenting about my story negatively. You're not entitled to my time or energy, and if you want to comment negatively, you won't be allowed to read anything I post. 
> 
> Please just be respectful. I really love reading the comments and interacting with you all, but there's a difference between constructive criticism and just being mean. 
> 
> I'll post the second part of this chapter later today since I missed posting yesterday! Thank you guys for all your support and your comments, they mean a lot to me.


	35. Part 2

"What about you?" Stiles asked quietly. Peter glanced down at his own cock, pressing painfully into his sweats and boxers before looking up at his little mate, still sprawled out for him. 

He was blushing, breathing just a little faster than normal. 

"I'm okay, sweetheart," Peter smirked, climbing out of bed to brush his teeth. Stiles' hand curled around his wrist, tugging lightly. Peter turned back to Stiles, who got his legs under him and knee-walked to the edge of the bed. 

Peter couldn't help but take him in. Wearing nothing but a tshirt that hid all but the tip of his flaccid cock. It made Peter's dick throb. 

"I-I want to," he said quietly, swallowing thickly. Peter lifted a single eyebrow, waiting the boy out. Stiles didnt back down though, so Peter gave a small nod, leaning forward to kiss him. 

"Okay," he hummed. Peter could tell Stiles was nervous as he pulled the boy off the bed. He curled an arm around his waist and pulled the boy in close, kissing him softly until Stiles was pliant in his hold. 

"I'm not pushing you to do anything," Peter said once they pulled away. "You do whats comfortable for you, and nothing more."

Stiles only nodded. Their position changed, Peter's knees hitting the bedside. He tugged his boxers and sweats down, letting them pool around his ankles before sitting down. 

Stiles stepped forward when Peter reached out, and the werewolf smirked before reaching a hand under his shirt to stroke Stiles' growing cock. 

He milked out a moan before moving his hand to Stiles' and tugging him even closer. Stiles dropped to his knees, hands resting on Peter's thighs and looking up with those wide brown eyes. 

Peter ran a finger under his jaw, pinching his chin before leaning down to kiss him again. "Take your time."

Stiles nodded again, taking a breath before reaching out for Peter's cock. His hand is warm, long fingers curling around the base of Peter's dick with a too-soft grip. 

Peter knows he's big -he's not being conceded in the slightest. He's above average. Stiles' cock stands at close to five inches, which is normal for a kid his age -a little on the slim side, but beautifully curled towards his stomach and cut. 

Peter's is close to nine inches give or take, and he's much thicker than Stiles is. It sits heavily in Stiles' hand as the boy looks it over curiously. 

Peter lets him. He's hard and the need to thrust into Stiles' hold is hard to resist, but this is his first time seeing another man's penis, and Peter wants him to look his fill. 

"You're uncircumcised," Stiles hummed, sounding a little curious and a bit shocked. He looked up at Peter again, who couldn't help but smile down at his boy. 

"Can't really circumcise a werewolf, sweetheart," he responded. Stiles nodded, blushing a bit before returning to Peter's not-so-little member. 

Peter was patient with him, allowing the boy to pull the skin back to expose the head. "Does that hurt?" Stiles asked, peering up at him. 

"No, sweetheart."

Stiles pushed the skin back over, then pulled it back, again and again, watching the tip of Peter's cock appear and disappear. Peter hummed, leaning back so he rested on his elbows, getting a better look at his mate between his knees. 

Stiles glanced up at him, unsure. He must've seen reassurance on Peter's face, because the boy leaned forward a bit and licked a small strip near the hooded tip. 

His tongue was heavy and warm, and Peter let out a small noise of approval, not wanting to push him into doing anything he wasnt comfortable with. 

In all honesty, Peter didnt need to get off tonight. If Stiles wanted to just explore, Peter would be more than happy to sit back and allow it. 

Stiles -spurred on by Peter- pulled the skin back again before licking at the tip, where it glistens with pre-cum. 

Peter knew his eyes flashed at the sight from the slight itch-burn behind his irises and he quickly blinked them back to their unsupernatural blue. 

"It tastes weird," Stiles grunted, making Peter chuckle. 

"You don't have to use your mouth if you don't want to," Peter reminded him, fond smile on his lips. Stiles said nothing, but licked him again, soft little kitten licks just this side of stimulating. 

Peter couldn't take his eyes off his boy, watching his hand flex around the base of Peter's cock, his tongue exploring the folds of skin that hid the tip of his penis. 

When Stiles felt a little more comfortable, he took Peter into his mouth. The werewolf huffed a breath, eyes closing at the feeling of wet warmth around him. 

Stiles doesn't take him further than a couple inches, just holding him there as he swipes with his tongue and then pulling off. 

Then he's back and taking a little more -never taking in enough to choke him, but enough to fill his mouth in a way that had Peter groaning up at the ceiling. 

He can feel Stiles smile around him, the soft brush of teeth making Peter shiver and moan. Stiles' hand on his shaft takes over what Stiles doesn't fit into his mouth. 

His tongue is prodding at Peter's foreskin, lapping over the tip when his hand pulls the skin back. Peter drops fully to his back, chest heaving in an effort not to thrust up into the warmth of Stiles' mouth. 

It takes a lot longer for Peter to reach his climax, and he knew it was a little longer than normal due to his mate's lack of experience and the constant change in rhythm, but he gets there, his balls drawing up. 

"Use your hand, sweetheart," Peter grunted between clenched teeth. Stiles pulled his mouth off and Peter lifted himself to one elbow, eyes flashing as he watched Stiles jerk him off. 

His lips are slick with spit, darker than normal. His eyes are almost beta gold even in the dim light of their bedroom, and that's all Peter needs to see before he's cumming in the boy's hand. 

He growls through it, hands fisting the sheets under him. Stiles gets some on his knuckles, his wrist. The rest lands on Peter's night shirt, but he doesn't care. 

He sits up and grabs Stiles from under his arms. Stiles stands up, letting Peter manhandle him into his lap before kissing him filthy. 

Stiles tastes like Peter. He's hard, and Peter reaches under his shirt without thought, caressing Stiles' cock, running his fingers over the tip with every upstroke. 

Stiles groans into his mouth, clean hand moving to grip Peter's shoulder. He keeps the other one near his thigh, still covered in cum. 

Stiles' legs shift, squeezing Peter's hips seconds before he cums, soiling his own shirt, and adding to the mess on Peter's. 

He whimpers, breaking the kiss and pressing his forehead to Peter's forehead, softly rolling his hips into Peter's hand as he rode out his second orgasm. 

The two sit for a moment, basking in their pleasure before Stiles lifts his head and presses his lips to Peter's. 

"Was that okay?" Stiles asked softly, voice rough. Peter smirked, leaning forward and kissing his nose. 

"It was more than okay, Stiles."

Stiles huffs. "You're not just saying that?"

Peter rolled his eyes, smirking a little. "Its kind of hard to fake an orgasm, sweetheart."

That got his boy blushing and ducking his head. Peter pushed Stiles off his lap, keeping his hands on his hips until Stiles was standing on his own before standing too and collecting his shirt. 

Stiles lifted his arms when Peter got to his armpits and Peter tugged the soiled shirt over the boy's head. Peter's shirt follows seconds later. 

He's not shy when it comes to nudity -being a werewolf, it's normal and even encouraged- but Stiles is. 

Peter looks at him appreciatively before grabbing his clean hand and heading for the bathroom. Stiles follows along, the softness of his bare feet on the hardwood a contrast to Peter's heel-heavy strides. 

Peter brings Stiles to the fore, sandwiching him between the sink and himself before washing his hand under warm water. 

The two brushed their teeth -Stiles still halfway hiding himself as best he can without actually using his hands- and then they return to their room. 

They put on new sleep clothes and crawl into bed, Stiles' protection book forgotten on the nightstand as the boy curled into Peter's side. 

"Peter?" Stiles asked when the room was dark. Peter hummed, mouth pressed against Stiles' temple. Stiles' scent turned embarrassed and he shuffled to hide in Peter's neck. 

The scent of balsam fir grew stronger with affection and warmth, and Peter smiled, holding him a little tighter. 

"Love you," came Stiles' soft mumble against his skin. His heartbeat is jackrabbiting in his chest, his body tense against Peter. 

Peter's smile is all teeth and he leans his head down to bite Stiles' jaw, nuzzling into the side of his neck. 

"I love you too, sweetheart."

Peter can smell when Stiles' scent blossoms at those words, his breath hitching and the smile pressed into his neck. 

Peter basks in the sharp scents, his boy's chemo-signals, their combined sex, all of it so strong it could suffocate. 

"Happy birthday," Stiles said a while later, teetering on the edge of sleep. 

"Thank you, baby."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A continuation! Thank you all for the lovely comments on the last one! A little more steter love before we dive back into the angst! Next chapter, Stiles meets the hunters!


	36. Chapter 36

"M'co-cold," Stiles whined. His fingers are turning blue, and Peter pushes himself faster. Its almost two miles between Woodland pond and the house, and Peter's not as fast as he could be.

Stiles stopped shivering, and Peter knew that wasn't good. He pushes himself faster, his clothes freezing in the cold. Stiles' breathing turns ragged, the air rattling in his lungs and coming out in quick, short pants.

He sees the house through the trees and yells, but doesn't slow down. The front door opens just as Peter makes it to the yard and Talia and Victor rush out. 

"What happened?" Talia demanded, grabbing Stiles from Peter and rushing him inside. Victor quickly got ahold of Peter's arm, tugging him inside. 

"Hunters," Peter grunted, the two of them being shoved into the living room. "Ambushed us at the pond."

"Vivian, start up the bath," Talia ordered, sitting down with Stiles and wrapping blankets over him. "Lukewarm, anything hotter than that could hurt him more."

Vivian shot up the stairs with Mary and Laura on her heels. 

"Cora, Derek, here now."

The pups rushed over quickly, not needing to be told what to do. Its easy for Cora to shift into her wolf and climb onto Stiles' lap. Derek clung to his other side. 

"You've still got wolfsbane," Talia said, looking to Peter. Peter nodded once, choking back a coughing fit and reaching into his back pocket for the bullets. "Victor, you take care of it."

Peter's pulled from the room, and Victor sets to work opening up the bullets and dumping the contents onto the table. 

Peter grits his teeth as he removes his shirt. "The bullets haven't come out yet," he informed Victor, climbing onto the table and laying on his back. 

The wounds are still open and oozing blood, three of them still infected. Victor grunted, leaving the strain on the table in a pile before tending to Peter. 

"Just do it," Peter gritted out, hands curled around the end of the table. Victor nodded, flexing his hand until claws tipped his fingers. 

Peter couldn't contain the growled exclamation of pain as he dug his fingers into the wounds of his torso, fishing through blood and tissue for intrusive metal. 

More blood flowed, Peter felt himself shifting from his beta form to his human one, and gritted his teeth to keep from biting at Victor. 

When the bullets are all removed, Peter's struggling to stay present. He can hear Stiles start to shiver again, his teeth clattering. He hopes it's a good sign. 

Then he's wailing with the burn of the strain being shoved into his last three wounds, and Victor has to hold his shoulders down until it passes. 

"I'm-I'm okay, let me up."

The instant he gets his feet under him, he lists to the side a bit, catching himself on the wall. Blood is beginning to dry on his skin, but he makes his way to the living room again. 

A couple more pack mates are with Stiles now, sharing body heat. Someone took off his shoes and socks and have Stiles' feet pressed between their thighs. Cora has his hands pinned under her thick coat. 

"How is he?" Peter demands, kneeling in front of the couch. His lips are still blue, eyes unfocused. 

"I don't think its severe," Talia said, sounding unsure. Werewolves didn't know much about human health. 

Peter reached up and touched Stiles' cheek, frowning at how cold it was before standing up. 

"Give me your phone." He doesn't ask anyone specifically, and Derek quickly hands his over before snuggling in close to Stiles. 

He dials a number and holds it to his ear, looking at Stiles, eyes closed and body trembling. 

"John."

"Its Peter," Peter starts. "You gotta come here. Stiles fell into the lake thirty minutes ago. We got him out of his clothes and we're trying to warm him up but we don't know what we're doing. His lips are blue."

"Fuck, fuck, okay, I'm on my way," John cursed, scrambling from whatever he was doing. "Name off symptoms."

Peter glanced at his boy, worry making his throat close up. "Blue lips, he's unfocused, his hands and feet are- they're really pale. He's cold to the touch."

"Fuck. Is-is he still shivering?"

"He wasn't," Peter said, feeling his heartbeat quicken. "He stopped, but he's shivering now."

"Good," the sheriff breathed, still sounding worried. "Shivering is good, thats a good sign. Run a bath, and heat up water, he needs to get warm fast."

Vivian is already upstairs, Peter can hear the water running and filling the tub. Talia goes for the kitchen, having heard John from the phone. 

"I'll be there in ten minutes."

Peter hung up. "Sheriff is coming, Cora, shift back, the rest of you keep him warm."

Cora leaps off the boy and runs upstairs. Peter rushes to the guest bathroom, pulling his shirt over his head and getting a hand towel wet before cleaning the blood and black from his torso. 

Once he's clean, he rushes back to Stiles, taking up the spot Talia vacated and pulling his boy close. 

The sheriff doesn't bother knocking when he shows up, and he rushes to Stiles, sitting on the coffee table in front and grabbing his hands. 

"Jesus, kid," he exclaimed. Stiles' skin is still cold to the touch, but John seems less worried, which instantly calms Peter a bit. "Talk to me, Stiles."

Stiles' shivering is violent, his teeth won't stop clattering together. "C-c-co-ol-ld."

"I know, we're gonna get you warm as soon as we can," John nodded. He turned to Peter. "Can you get him to the bath?"

Peter nodded and the pack moved out of the way. He gently lifted the shaking boy into his arms, and made his way up the stairs. 

"Talia, can you bring the warm water upstairs?" John asked as he followed Peter. Talia nodded, and Peter stepped into the bathroom. 

John stuck his hand into the water and nodded. "Set him down, lets get him out of these blankets and put him in."

So the two got to work holding Stiles up while removing the blankets. His boxers are still on and soaked, but both men leave them on and move him into the water. 

"H-hot!" Stiles exclaimed. Peter frowned worriedly as Stiles clung to him, not allowing Peter to set him in. The water was room temperature. 

So Peter straightens and climbs into the tub with him, submerging Stiles' legs. The water reaches to Stiles' chest, and Peter curls his arms around his boy, keeping him close. 

"Tell me what happened," John demanded, looking up at Peter. 

"I picked him up from school during my rounds," Peter said. He had to go about this carefully, not wanting to hint at hunters, but also not wanting to make it out like Stiles had stupidly walked across the pond on his own. 

"F-fell in," Stiles chattered. "Di-didn-n't me-ean to."

Talia came up with a mug, handing it over to John. "I've got clothes set out for him," she said. "I pulled out the space heater."

"Thanks," John nodded, bringing the cup to Stiles, forcing the teenager to sip it. "I think you're gonna be okay."

The last of Peter's worry melted off his tense muscles and he held Stiles a little tighter. 

"What were you thinking?" John sighed. "Its not cold enough to walk across the pond, even if it is shallow. You could've died."

Peter had to bite his tongue. He agreed with the sheriff, he didnt like Stiles jumping into the water after him. 

"Wa-wasn't thin-thinking," Stiles grumbled, letting his head fall back onto Peter's shoulder. "M'sor-ry, d-dad-d."

John just sighed and shook his head. 

They stayed in the bath for a while longer, until Stiles' shivers turned from violent thrashing to small tremors. Peter and John got him dried quickly and kept the towels around him while they walked him down the hall to Peter's room. 

The space heater was already going, pointed to the bed. Stiles still needed help dressing, and after the two men got him in a pair of under armor, hoodie and sweat pants and about two pairs of socks, they stuff him under the blankets. 

Stiles fell asleep not long after, still shivering under the pile of blankets. 

"I think I'm going to stay here for a little while," John said, scrubbing his face. Peter nodded. 

"You can stay the night if you want," he said easily. "Stiles' bed is just across the hall."

John nodded, taking one last look at Stiles before leaving the room and heading downstairs. Peter listened as he spoke with Talia in the kitchen before turning back to his boy. 

Stiles blinked his eyes open and looked up from where his face is buried in the blanket. Peter walked over, squatting in front of his boy. His wet jeans made it difficult, but he managed. 

"You could've died," Peter admonished. 

"S-so co-could yo-you," Stiles responded weakly. 

"I'm a werewolf, I would've been fine," Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair. He felt like he was warming up now, which was good. 

"Do-doubt-tful," Stiles said. "You were poi-poisoned an-and drown-drowning. Was-wasn't gon-na l-let you di-die."

Peter sighed. "How do you think I'd feel if you froze to death?"

Stiles' brown eyes turned steely, and he pulled his face from the warm confines of the blanket. "Sa-same way I-I'd f-feel, as-ass-hol-le."

Peter blinked down at him. "Now, co-come cuddle-le me, I'm co-cold." So Peter did, stripping out of his wet jeans and boxers and slipping under the covers at Stiles' back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go! A bit of angst for the lovely readers! We're almost to 60 chapters, which makes this the longest book I've written yet! I don't think it'll pass 65 but we shall see! Let me know what you guys think!!


	37. Chapter 37

It was difficult for Stiles to come back from that. He'd killed two people. Peter knew how he felt, and knew nothing he said would make the fifteen year old feel better, so Peter said nothing at all. 

The sheriff was under the impression Stiles had clumsily fallen into the pond, instead of saving Peter's life. The hunters were under the impression that a werewolf and a magic user had attacked their hunting party, and wanted retribution. 

That meant Stiles and Peter specifically were targets. Stiles' need to protect was ratcheted up to fifty. He didnt put the book down once when he had free time. 

Talia took to managing the situation, but it was tough, with the alphas breathing down her neck. Stiles kept trudging through his book. He was more than halfway through, and had plenty of different spells and instructions for protecting his pack.

He started with Peter. It was just a practice run, really. He tried a couple spells on Peter to see if they worked, and when they didn't -Peter being more than willing to test it himself- Stiles went right back to the book. 

The days were getting warmer, meaning spring break was on its way. 

He was turning sixteen on spring break. He'd have two weeks to train without worrying about school and homework. 

School was the same as its always been. Issac and Boyd hung out with him during practice, Derek met up after basketball let out, and the four of them would walk each other home. 

Stiles had even talked with Erica. He didnt know why he did. He didnt even know he had grown comfortable enough to be able to speak around her, but he found himself speaking when Erica and Derek got into a conversation about electroshock therapy. 

Erica said it helped, Derek wasn't for it -for obvious reasons. In the end, Stiles couldnr help but say in a soft voice, "its different for her than it is for you."

Because it was. Electroshock for a werewolf was beyond painful, forcing a shift against their will and messing with their abilities. Electroshock for someone like Erica, who had a neurological disorder, meant they could reduce symptoms, possibly get rid of the problem all together. 

He had written a paper on it. 

Erica kind of did a little jump double take, Bassett hound eyes widening slightly before she grinned. 

"You know, I thought your voice would be higher," she said. Stiles just blinked, Derek laughed, and that was it. She didn't make a big deal about it, didnt make Stiles feel embarrassed about it, and that felt really good. 

The snow underfoot was crisp, the roads slushy as Derek and Stiles walked through town, heading first to Boyd's house, and then to Issac's before cutting through the preserve to home. 

It was easy to get lost in the conversation, and Stiles smiled and laughed alongside his friends. It was nice, having friends. He didnt have many when he was younger, and he wondered if Derek was the reason Issac and Boyd stuck around. 

But he pushed that thought away when Boyd's large frame hovered over him. Stiles squawked indignantly as big arms yanked him off the ground. 

Boyd was secretly a cuddler, and Stiles absolutely loved it. He could scent his friends and neither boy really found it odd. 

Stiles was dropped back to his feet and almost lost his footing. 

"See you guys Monday," he grinned, heading inside. And then there were three. 

They walked Issac home, and after a quick hug, he rushed up the stairs and disappeared inside. Stiles scowled up at the house, and his eyes moved to the window to the left of the door, seeing Issac's dad looking at both him and Derek. 

"That guy gives me the creeps," Stiles muttered, tearing his eyes away from the window to start walking home. Derek nodded silently, hands stuffed in his pockets. 

It was warming up, but it was still cold. Stiles didnt need his gloves or scarf, but he kept his hat on and his coat buttoned. 

"Lets get home before mom calls," Derek sighed. Stiles nodded, and the two walked through the Linda Vista Estates towards the preserve. 

They'd made it to the back of the Estates when Derek stopped and jerked, like he was hit across the face. Stiles stopped too, glancing around him before looking at Derek. "What? What is it?"

Derek turned his foggy forest green eyes to a stately brick house. Stiles counted five points to just the front half of the roof, and it had a driveway that disappeared around the side, and curled around the front in a turn-around. 

It was the kind of house you needed serious money to even look at. Much like every other house in the Linda Vista Estates. 

"What?" Stiles asked again, scowling at the house like it had personally offended the two. 

"It smells like hunters in there," Derek finally said. Stiles' gaze turned sharp, and he ground his teeth a little. 

"What are they doing here?" He demanded, even as he grabbed Derek's hand and tugged him down the road. "They know Beacon Hills is Hale territory."

"We'll tell mom," Derek decided, looking back every once in a while to make sure whoever was in the house wasn't looking back at them. 

The walk through the preserve was quiet, and Stiles couldnt help but sending out feelers -his magic pulsing from him in waves like echo location. He felt the trees, the animals, the nemeton. Derek beside him, the town behind and the pack ahead. Nothing else. No hunters hiding behind trees, no traps laid for unsuspecting werewolves. There weren't even any joggers out. 

Stiles didnt let himself settle though until they got to the house. Peter was on the porch with Victor, waiting for the younger pups to get back from school. 

"Whats with the faces?" Peter asked, cocking an eyebrow as Stiles and Derek climbed the steps. Stiles walked over to him, sitting down on his thigh, his own legs firmly between Peter's. 

"I think a group of hunters moved into the Linda Vista Estates," Derek said, scowling. Stiles felt Peter tense under him. "Smelt wolfsbane and gun powder."

"Which house?" Peter demanded. Derek gave him the house number and which street it was on -Stiles hadn't thought to look at the numbers screwed into the brick siding, so he was glad Derek had. 

"Thank you, Der," Peter sighed. "We'll look into it."

Derek nodded and walked inside, but Stiles stayed on Peter's lap, even in the cold. Peter collected his hands, covering them and setting them on Stiles' lap. 

Stiles' head stood higher than Peter's now when he sat on Peter's lap, and their hands were almost the same size -Stiles thinks his fingers might be a little longer. 

There were differences though. Stiles was built like a swimmer, or a runner, with long limbs and a thin torso. He had muscle mass, but not much. 

Peter -although tall- fit well into his limbs. He had thick, corded muscles and broad shoulders.

Stiles couldnt help but smiling. He still had a growth spurt or two before he was finished growing, but he was looking more and more grown as time went, and Peter obviously thought so too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens!! 
> 
> Thank you all for the lovely comments! Let me know what you guys think!


	38. Chapter 38

"The hunters are Argents," Peter growled, storming into Talia's office. Stiles was still, but he seemed to freeze in his seat across from Talia, book on his lap. 

"Gerard?" Stiles asked, swallowing thickly. Stiles couldnt help but go back to that night not long ago when the hunter had stabbed Deucalion in the eyes and left him for dead. 

All of the pack's problems seemed to have started because of Gerard. 

"The matriarch," Peter said, glancing just briefly at Stiles before turning cold eyes to Talia. "She moved in last week with her hunter husband and a daughter."

"Because of me?" Stiles asked. It wasnt far fetched. He kills two hunters and suddenly the biggest hunter family -who lived in Redding- was sending their matriarch to Hale territory. 

Stiles couldnt help but thinking the Argents were readying themselves to take out the pack. Moving their pieces across the board so they could get to the king. 

"No," Peter said, just as Talia said, "unfortunately." Stiles looked between the two werewolves and bit his lip. 

"Its not your fault," Talia said, and again, Peter spoke over her. 

"You didn't do anything wrong."

Now Stiles scowled. He did do something wrong. He had killed them. He had lost control when he saw Peter on the ice. Saw the wild rage and pain and worry in his glowing blue eyes, mouth parted. 

He was on his knees, with three hunters all aiming at him execution style, and Stiles hadn't known what to do. He was being half dragged away, and he had shouted, hoping that got the hunters' attention or even the pack's. 

And then the ice gave way, and Peter didn't even flail, didnt try to catch himself. Stiles had felt everything snap, and he'd shoved the two hunters off him with force that could only come from his magic. 

He'd spun on them, sparks tickling up his fingers to his palms and slammed both hands down on their chests. He should've known he'd stop their hearts doing that, but his mind was too focused on getting to Peter, and keeping the hunters from stopping him. 

After that, it was a blur of Stiles rushing to the pond. When he'd surfaced, the hunters were gone, and Stiles had added two more deaths. It was his fault the matriarch was on their territory now. 

"I'm not a kid," Stiles said, looking up at the two werewolves. "I know what I did. The matriarch moving in on pack territory isn't a coincidence."

"We're handling it, pup," Talia said. Stiles tore his eyes from her to Peter when the werewolf squatted down in front of him. 

"You did nothing wrong," Peter repeated. "You protected yourself, and me. That's all."

"The hunters don't think so."

*-*

Stiles was scribbling along the margins of his notebook when the classroom phone rang. It didnt happen often in Harris' class, and Derek always said it was because of his bubbly personality. 

It always made Stiles laugh whenever Derek huffed and groaned about their chemistry teacher. 

He didnt pay much attention to Harris' monotonous drab voice. Somehow, he always managed to sound both above it all and so absolutely done with everyone he talked to. 

"Mr. Hale, Mr. Stilinski, you're requested at the office." 

Stiles lifted his head and frowned in confusion. He glanced at Derek who sat a couple chairs ahead and then packed up his things. 

"You can make up your missed work today after school."

"We've got practice," Derek reminded him. Stiles swung his bag over his shoulder. 

"Not my problem," Harris grunted, not paying either boy any attention. Stiles rolled his eyes, but shoulder-checked Derek into leaving the room. 

"I'm so jealous of whoever his soulmate is," Derek growled once in the empty hallway. 

Stiles grinned. "He doesn't have one," he informed. "I don't think he ever will."

"What a shame," Derek grunted, making Stiles chuckle. The two headed for the office, and Stiles wondered if Talia was pulling them for something. 

They stepped in the door and Derek visibly stiffened, his steps faltering. Stiles instantly looked at everyone in the room. 

The two office ladies were sat behind the desk, there was the janitor, and the school counselor was there. Stiles' eyes landed on the two people Stiles didnt know, and felt his skin prickle. 

The younger woman was blonde, hair falling past her shoulders in waves. She was pretty. The older woman made Stiles' dick and balls shrivel up and try to hide in his body. 

Short red hair, hard-set lips, unfriendly eyes. Even when she smiled at the two, Stiles took a small step back. 

"Boys," the counselor hummed, pulling Stiles' attention to her. "This is Mrs. Argent, and her daughter, Kate."

Derek eyed the two of them, not saying a word, but Stiles could tell he was having a hard time not shifting. Stiles reached forward just a little and grabbed his hand. 

"They're with social services," the counselor continued. Stiles knew they weren't. With how Derek was reacting -and their name- it wasn't hard to know why they were here. 

"Dont worry," the older woman spoke, still smiling. It didn't reach her eyes, and her voice made Stiles want to curl into himself. "We come to different schools to check in on troubled students. Try to see what we can fix at home to make school a safer experience."

Stiles could hear the underlying threat in her tone, and the younger girl -Kate- grinned a little, too wild to be pleasant. 

"You guys can use my office," the counselor smiled, clapping her hands in front of her. Stiles jumped a bit, and Derek squeezed his hand. 

In the office, Derek growled, keeping himself in front of Stiles. "You can't talk to us without our alpha."

Kate sauntered -really, Stiles thought that only happened in books- over to lean against the desk, arms folded over her chest loosely. She looked amused, whereas Mrs. Argent looked calculating. She was watching Derek and Stiles too sharply. Stiles didn't like it.

"Maybe not," Kate spoke fir the first time. Her voice was rough, sultry and smooth. Stiles chewed on his lip when her gaze turned to Stiles. "But I can talk to him."

Stiles shivered a bit at her smirk. "How about it, sweetie, wanna talk?"

Stiles -hidden half behind Derek- pulled his phone out, blindly opening it and pressing into the screen. 

Talia had been the last person he'd text, so it was easy to open the message, and it only took him pressing the upper right hand corner of the phone for the phone to dial. 

"Not a talker, hmm?" Kate asked. 

"He's mute," Derek said, just as Stiles stuffed his phone back into his pocket. Derek turned slightly towards him, and Stiles knew Talia had picked up, could hear the faint almost impossible to hear voice. 

Stiles eyes turn to Mrs. Argent, who was flipping open a folder on the counselor's desk. "You're very bright, Stiles," the woman said. So she was looking at his file. "All As in your classes, and first line in lacrosse. That's quite impressive."

Stiles didn't like her saying his name. 

"What do you want?" Derek growled. "You didn't bring us in here to talk about Stiles' education."

The woman smiled, all sharp teeth and fire behind her eyes. 

"Ooh," Kate smirked, leaning forward. "You're a fiesty little thing, aren't you?"

Derek growled at her, stepping back and bumping into Stiles. 

"We're not telling you anything without our alpha," Derek pressed. 

"You could tell us willingly, or we could have a little fun," Kate smirked, straightening and stepping forward. Stiles and Derek backed up almost to the wall. 

"Its up to you."

Kate's eyes turned to Stiles and she stepped a little closer. Derek and Stiles couldnt do anything about it, not without getting in trouble with the school, or digging themselves deeper with the hunters. 

Kate lifted her hand and Stiles flinched a bit away from her fingers. Derek's growl turned threatening, eyes flashing blue and teeth snapping. 

"Watch it, puppy," Kate spoke smoothly, not at all affected by Derek. "You're young, but the code isn't going to protect you for much longer."

Suddenly, the door beside Stiles swung open. Everyone jumped and Stiles sagged a bit against the wall to see his dad, sheriff's uniform on. 

"Whats going on here?" He demanded. Stiles sent a glare to the two women, grabbing Derek's hand again. 

"We're with social services," Mrs. Argent smiled. 

"What do you think you're doing with my boys then?" John snapped. "You know the law, minors aren't to be questioned without their soulmates or their legal guardians."

"They're not being questioned," Kate said, all smiles and lax posturing. "Just a normal check in on some of the more troubled kids in the school district."

"I'm going to need to see some credentials, and the number of your supervisor."

"Of course," Mrs. Argent smiled, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a business card. Stiles had to give it to them, they were prepared. 

"Boys, go wait in the hall," John said, grabbing the card from the older woman. "Might want to call your mom back, she sounded worried."

Derek nodded and slipped out of the office. Stiles paused a moment, looking from his dad to the two women. They wouldn't do anything to the sheriff would they? In the middle of school?

John glanced down and set a hand on his shoulder. "Go wait with Derek. I'll drive you guys home when I'm finished."

Stiles swallowed and nodded before stepping out of the office. He pulled his phone out and clicked on Peter's contact, bringing the phone to his ear as he rushed out into the hallway. 

"Stiles," Peter answered. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Stiles breathed, already feeling himself relax at hearing Peter's voice. "We-we met the matriarch." 

*-*

John drove Derek and Stiles home with a scowl and a demand to know what it was the 'social workers' had asked them. Stiles let Derek answer all the questions.

He walked them into the house and went straight to Talia's office to talk with her. Stiles went straight to the living room, falling into the couch beside Peter and tucking himself into his side. 

"You guys okay?" Peter asked, glancing up at Derek as he wrapped his arm around Stiles' shoulders. 

"Yeah," Derek huffed. "They didn't really tell us why they were there, just threatened us a little and wanted us to tell them everything. Don't know if they meant about the hunters or the pack in general."

"Dad got there before we could find out," Stiles said. 

"Good," Peter growled. "Its bad enough they disrespected us by moving in."

John stayed for a while longer, and after hugging Stiles, left for his night shift. Chemistry was their last class of the day, so Stiles went upstairs and got started on his homework. 

He was still worried about the matriarch -Mrs. Argent. Stiles had felt a lot of evil in his woods, the alphas being the worst. But Mrs. Argent was a different type of evil. The kind of evil found in cult leaders or zealots. 

But she was human. Her spark was nothing but a speck of sand, compared to Stiles'. But he was afraid of her. He didnt think he'd be able to do anything against her if she came at him. 

Kate, was scary in a different sense. While Mrs. Argent was calm cool and collected in the way Deucalion was, Kate felt like a loaded gun in the hands of a child -seconds away from going off and taking whoever out without a thought. 

Stiles was staring at his homework, not really seeing it as he struggled to come up with scenarios and plans. 

Thats what Peter did. He stayed five steps ahead of everyone, it was his job as left-hand. But, Stiles was kind of the left-hand too now. Or he was close enough being mated to Peter. 

He had to plan ahead too. He had to work out as many variables as he could, be prepared for anything. He had to protect his pack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we finally meet Kate and Victoria! So in the show, the Argents use a cover-not-cover job, but it seems to be only the men who sell guns and stuff, you know? So I gave the girls a job too. Seriously not meaning to be senior about it i just needed a way to get Kate involved with Stiles and Derek some how, and social worker seemed to fit!
> 
> It would also work with keeping an eye on minor werewolves since the code protects them. It would give them an excuse to keep eyes on all the supernatural minors and then be able to determine if they should be killed once they hit 18 kind of thing. 
> 
> Anywho, that's just my world building showing again, don't mind me. Let me know what you guys think!


	39. Chapter 39

He didnt hear Peter come in until the werewolf grabbed the book from Stiles' lap and shut it. The papers were sticking out of the top, and Stiles glanced up to see him put the book on the nightstand. 

"Come here, baby."

Stiles unfolded his legs and crawled over to where Peter was sitting, allowing Peter to settle him on the werewolf's lap, knees on either side of his hips. 

"Are we gonna make out now?" Stiles asked, grinning down at Peter. 

"Hmm, definitely," Peter growled back. Stiles' smile widened and he leaned down to kiss his soulmate square on the mouth. 

Peter's hands wind around Stiles' waist, pulling him closer, and Stiles let out a little noise, settling further into Peter's chest. 

Kissing was something Stiles was good at. He could keep up with Peter now, swiping tongues and biting teeth. He liked it best when Peter took control of the kiss, but he'd let Stiles lead once or twice. 

It wasnt long before Stiles felt his jeans growing tight, and he subconsciously rolled his hips forward a little. 

Peter grumbles against his lips and Stiles inhaled, hands gripping Peter's shirt tightly when Peter flips them, forcing Stiles onto his back and kissing the snot out of him. 

Stiles keeps his knees bent, allows Peter to lower between his legs and grind down just a bit as he licks into Stiles' mouth. 

And then Peter's mouth leaves his, and his lips find Stiles' jaw. Stiles' lips part as he pants, staring up at the ceiling as Peter nips and kisses down his jaw to his ear. 

And then he's moving down to his neck, lapping at the skin where his shoulder meets his neck and scrapes his teeth. 

Stiles gasps, whimpering and turning his head to the side, rolling his hips up for just a little more friction. 

Peter growls into his ear, sending goosebumps over Stiles' skin. Peter noses at him, sucks his skin into his mouth and bites down just hard enough for Stiles to feel the individual teeth. 

When he releases the skin, Peter laps at it with the flat of his tongue, and sucks on it some more. 

"Peter," Stiles lets out, desperate for something. He doesn't know what, but Peter moves his mouth and repeats the process, leaving little wet spots against pale skin. His neck tingles where Peter's teeth worried. 

Peter's teeth close down on Stiles' throat, threatening to cut off his air supply, but Stiles does nothing but rut up against him, hands fisting Peter's shirt, running over his ribs, tickling over his spine. 

Stiles can't seem to keep his eyes open, no matter how hard he tried. It was all too much, and Stiles finally let his eyes fall shut, tilting his chin up and exposing more neck for Peter to bite and suck and lick. 

"Peter," Stiles moaned again, one hand finding its way to Peter's hair. "Can- can we do more?"

Peter rolled his hips forward in response and Stiles gasped, rocking up into him and tightening his grip on Peter's hair and his shirt. 

Stiles pulled his hands away, reaching between them and grabbing the hem of his shirt and yanked. Peter pulled back, letting Stiles lift his shoulders up and pulling the shirt over his head. 

Already feeling too exposed, he reached up for Peter, pulling him back down and kissing him. He didn't think he could blush so much for so long, but it got worse when Peter's fingers traced up Stiles' bare sides. 

Stiles -feeling brave- dipped his hands under Peter's shirt, running his palms over rippling abs and chest hair. 

Compared to Peter, Stiles' torso was nothing but soft lines and flat planes. Though it didbt seem like Peter cared as he covered Stiles with his hands almost reverently. 

Stiles curled his hands under Peter's arms, tracing the curve of ribs until his fingers pressed into the thick muscles of his shoulder blades. 

"Please, Peter."

Peter rumbled low in his chest, moving down Stiles' body and kissing at his sternum. 

When he reached Stiles' belly button, Stiles wiggled, his cock painfully held down by his jeans. 

"Pants off, baby," Peter hummed, pulling back to smirk up at Stiles. Stiles swallowed thickly, the predatory gaze directed at him almost too much. 

Peter unbuttoned his pants and pulled the zip down, leaning back on his heels. Stiles lifted his hips a little, letting Peter yank his boxers down too. 

"God, you're fucking gorgeous," Peter growled, eyes flashing blue as he took Stiles in. Stiles whimpered, feeling more naked than he already was. 

Peter unbuttoned his own pants, still kneeling between Stiles' knees. Stiles watched helplessly as Peter lifted off his heels, pushing his jeans and boxers down his thighs and exposing his cock. 

Stiles knew they weren't going to have sex today, he knew it would be a while before he was even slightly ready, but the sight of Peter's cock had Stiles' stomach rolling with nerves. 

How was something that big going to fit inside Stiles?

Peter moved back up Stiles' body, kicking his clothes off the rest of the way before dropping for a kiss. 

They were both naked now. They had been before, but Stiles hadnt gotten used to it yet. 

Stiles wound his arms around Peter's neck when Peter curled an arm around his waist. He had enough time to tense a little before Peter rocked back, lifting Stiles off his back. 

"You wanna do more, sweetheart?" Peter asked, mouthing at Stiles' collarbone. 

"Please," Stiles whimpered. Peter easily maneuvered them so his back was against the headboard, knees bent and forcing Stiles to move up, pressing into his chest. 

Stiles put both hands on the headboard, fingers curling around the top and pushing himself up a little so he can look down at Peter, blushing furiously. 

"Stay right there, baby," Peter ordered, voice thick with a growl, eyes flashing. Stiles nodded, inhaling shakily. His arms threatened to shake, but he gripped the headboard a little harder, shifting a little in Peter's lap. 

"Let me see your pretty little mouth."

Stiles didnt mean to make out the choked little punched out noise that sounded like he inhaled wrong. His heartbeat was so fast it almost hurt, but he opened his mouth. 

Stiles didnt have time to question why Peter asked until he lifted a hand and pressed his forefinger against Stiles' tongue. 

Stiles closed his lips around the digit, sucking softly. Peter's finger stoked along the back of Stiles' tongue, a little too close to his throat, and he pulled back a little. 

"Look at you," Peter hummed appreciatively. Stiles only blushed more. Peter pulled his finger out with a soft pop of suction. 

"We're going to try something new, okay sweetheart?" Peter said. "If you don't like it, you tell me and we'll stop."

"Okay," Stiles breathed. 

"Good boy," Peter smiled. Stiles smiled back before leaning forward for a kiss, bending his arms so his elbows rested just above Peter's shoulders. 

They kissed for a little bit before Stiles felt fingers brushing against Stiles' ass. He inhaled a little around Peter's lips, but didn't pull away when he felt a spit slick finger message his hole. 

He pressed in a little and Stiles pulled back from Peter, straightening his arms and turning his head to look over his shoulder. 

He couldnt see where Peter's finger pushed in, but he looked back anyway, biting his lip as Peter pressed in a little further. 

"This okay?"

Stiles nodded. It felt strange, having Peter's finger pressing in, but it didn't really hurt. It wasnt much of a stretch. It was more uncomfortable than it was painful. He knew if Peter added another it would hurt real bad. 

He could tell when Peter was all the way in, and he frowned a little before turning back to Peter. 

"I thought-" he shifted a bit. "I thought it'd feel, uh, better."

Peter chuckled a little. Was porn wrong about that? Maybe the prostate wasn't as sensitive as everyone made it out to be. 

Stiles shuddered a bit when Peter brushed against him from the inside. "Oh."

Peter smiled, stroking him from the inside. Stiles could feel his muscles clenching around him and he ducked his head a bit. 

Another whine breaks out when Stiles' eyes fall on their laps. Stiles' cock was dwarfed against Peter's. 

"Reach into the nightstand drawer," Peter hummed. Stiles looked up at him before glancing to the side. 

Peter's finger was pushing in and out of him slowly, brushing against his prostate every time. 

Stiles reached over, shivering at the pleasure rushing up his spine and down his cock at the feeling. 

He pulled one hand from the headboard and leaned over, opening the drawer and finding a bottle of lube next to a small pile of papers and extra electrical cords. 

He pulled it out and sat back straight on Peter's lap, shivering again as Peter rubbed his insides. 

"That feel good, baby?" Peter smirked. Stiles nodded, lips parted on a moan, his cock twitching above Peter's. 

"Squeeze some onto my hand."

It took Stiles a minute to pop the lid of the lube bottle open with one hand, and he squeezed some onto Peter's open palm before capping it and dropping it to the bed beside them. 

Stiles let out an absolutely wrecked noise when Peter wrapped his fingers around Stiles and himself, his arms shaking on either side of Peter's head. 

Having Peter's finger brushing against his prostate as well as his hand around his cock was almost too much to work with, and he couldn't keep the noises from spilling from his lips. 

Embarrassing noises. Not the deep moans and groans from movies or porn, but the high pitched whines and whimpers and broken off grunty breaths. 

His arms dropped, elbows landing on Peter's shoulders and hands fisting his hair. Peter growled, surging forward and biting at the skin of Stiles' exposed neck. 

"Pe-peter, I'm- wait-" Stiles gasped. He tried to pull away before he came, but it was too late. 

Stiles' whole body shuddered and shook through the orgasm, his arms and legs tightening around Peter. He let out a stuttering moan as Peter kept fingering his prostate, milking his cock with his other hand until nothing else could come out. 

Stiles felt Peter pulling his finger out, slowly. He got his bearings enough to sit up a little, and he feels a slight soreness in his ass. Sore wasnt really the right word, but he could tell something had been in there. 

"Sorry," Stiles finally said, glancing at Peter before looking down at their crotches. Stiles was already softening -making him look even smaller next to Peter. Peter was lazily stroking himself, still hard. 

"For what, sweetheart?" Peter asked, a small smile on his lips. There wasn't any judgement in his tone and there was cum on his stomach. 

"I came too fast," Stiles grumbled, dropping his eyes. 

"Thats alright," Peter hummed. Stiles glanced up, ready to argue that it wasn't, when Peter grabbed Stiles' hand with his lube slick one. "Will you help me out?"

Stiles nodded, curling his fingers around Peter's cock. He smiled a little when Peter's hand curled around it too, their fingers interlocking. 

Peter set the pace, and Stiles easily followed along, watching Peter's head poke in and out of his skin with each up and down movement of their hands. 

A few minutes later, Peter cums, painting his belly and Stiles' hand. Its warm, but it cools quickly, and Stiles pulls his hand back, sitting on Peter's thighs. 

Peter's hands are on his thighs, running his palms from knees to hips before going back down. Stiles looks down at the mess the two have made on Peter's stomach, and then to the strip of cum over Stiles' thumb and wrist. 

"Lets get cleaned up, sweetheart."

Stiles nods, allowing Peter to curl an arm under Stiles' ass and turning so his feet hit the floor. Stiles was used to werewolf strength, but it still amazed him when Peter stood, not once letting Stiles slip. 

Stiles curled his legs around Peter's hips, pressing their soft cocks together and smearing their cum against Stiles' belly. 

Peter walks them towards the bathroom, and Stiles lifts his hand to his mouth. He'd been curious before. Derek had told him cum tasted a bit salty and bitter, but Stiles was never one to take someone else's word for it. 

He sucked on the side of his thumb, tasting Peter there. It was salty, but not terrible. Stiles had assumed it would be ocean salty, but instead, it was on the little-bit-too-much-salt-in-the-soup kind of salty. 

"How do I taste?" Peter spoke. Stiles instantly blushed, pulling his thumb out of his mouth. He had his chin hooked over Peter's shoulder, and had assumed his mate wouldn't have noticed. 

Peter set Stiles on his feet beside the shower, giving him a knowing smirk. Stiles' stomach felt sticky with cum, and his hand absent-mindedly moved up to run fingers through it. 

"Good," he said, peering up at Peter with bright red cheeks. Peter's smirk grew and he leaned down to kiss him before turning the shower on.

When Peter stepped back in front of him, he took Stiles' soiled hand and brought it up to his mouth. Stiles' eyes widened when his tongue darted out, running up the length of his wrist and collecting his own cum and swallowing. 

"Not as good as you taste, sweetheart," Peter smirked. Stiles swallowed, still trying to recover as Peter guided him into the shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go! Hope you guys like it!
> 
> Also, I've already spoken to the person leaving negative comments but I just want to say real quickly, its a waste of time to continue reading something you don't like and then commenting on it. Negativity is exhausting and its really not that hard to just unsubscribe and move on with your life. 
> 
> Next chapter is gonna have an attempted kidnapping by Kate!


	40. Chapter 40

Stiles doesn't see the hunters again until the week before spring break. Kate and a couple nameless men catch him after lacrosse practice. 

Stiles carries his gloves, stick and helmet in his arms as he jogs off the field. His muscles are sore, chest heaving. He's so glad practice is over. 

He's just reaching rhr open double doors when Kate steps in his path. Stiles skids to a stop, dropping his things with a loud clatter. 

Two men flank him when Stiles turns, and he feels his heart stutter. 

"Stiles, right?" Kate asked, stepping closer. Stiles faces her again, resolutely keeping his teeth clamped shut. She's smirking and its all predatory. Nothing like how Peter pulls off the look. 

"I have to tell ya, kid, its very difficult to get any of you alone."

Stiles takes a small step back, glancing to the left and right and hoping to find someone else he could run to. A witness. 

He bumps into the two men behind him, and Kate's quick grab of his chin had Stiles looking at her with wide eyes. 

"Whats a girl gotta do to get a little attention around here?" Kate asked, voice light and playful. Stiles shivers a bit and Kate lifts an eyebrow. 

"Now, I know those vocal cords work," Kate hummed, smirking with the side of her mouth as her long slim fingers moved from his jaw to his throat. Stiles took another step back, but the men behind him didn't budge. Stiles made to run, but the two guys grabbed his arms and practically lifted him off his feet. 

Stiles felt his breathing quicken, panic lacing each frantic beat of his heart. "Why don't you tell me where the werewolf is, hmm?" Kate said, speaking as if nothing happened. "Or better yet, why don't you tell us about the pack?"

Stiles gritted his teeth, glaring at her. Kate' smirk widened. "You're really sticking to the whole vow of silence, huh?" She huffed, amused. "I'm sure I could break it, if you give me a minute or two."

Stiles felt bile rise in his throat and he yanked at his arms. A small, desperate grunt left his throat as he struggled against the two hunters. 

"Lets bring him to the car before his little packmates find out he's missing," Kate said, nodding to the two men behind him. 

Stiles feels real panic then, and he thrashes in the hunters' hold, trying desperately to bring his spark to the surface. Its like trying to find purchase on ice, no matter how hard he tries, he can't get to it, and that panics Stiles even more. 

Stiles is half dragged from the school, heading for the side of the building. He finds his voice seconds later, and shouts as loud as he possibly can. 

"Derek!"

Hands wrestle Stiles along and he shouts again before a hand drops over his mouth. Stiles has his upper half pressed into one man, the guy holding his mouth shut keeping the back of his head against his chest, his other arm curled around Stiles' ribs. 

The second man has his legs now, and Stiles sees the black SUV idling in the school parking lot. 

His hands spark as he hyperventilates and he uses it, grabbing ahold of the guy's bare arm and pushing out. 

The man shouted and dropped Stiles. He lands with a cry, hitting his shoulder and the side of his head on the concrete with a loud crack. The other hunter still has his legs, but a swift kick gets him to let go. 

"Fucking hell, grab him!" Kate snaps. Stiles chokes on too little air, flailing his arms in an almost blind panic. Now, his spark is sizzle-popping at his fingers, zipping up to his elbows, and he pushes out, putting an energy barrier between him and the hunters. 

"Stiles!"

Stiles jerks his head up to see Derek and Laura running at them full speed, beta shifted and looking murderous. 

Kate growls and runs off, leaving the two other hunters to scramble after her. Derek flies past Stiles, still in his basketball jersey. The SUV is pulling away before the two hunters get all the way inside, and Derek lets out a roar. 

Laura drops down onto her knees beside Stiles, whos shaking and in pain, and not really breathing too well. 

"Hey, hey, you're okay, its okay," Laura exclaimed, running her hands over his shoulders and arms, looking for injury. Stiles' shoulder hurts, but it doesn't feel like its dislocated or broken. His head throbs, and he cal feel wet above his ear. He might have a concussion. 

"Can you stand up?" Laura asked. Stiles forces himself to take a deep breath, nodding a little even though it hurts to do. 

Derek runs back over to them and helps Stiles to his feet. Stiles' head spins a little, but Derek keeps a hold of him as they walk back to the double doors that lead to the showers. 

Laura grabs his things and the two help get Stiles out of his jersey and into his regular clothes. 

Stiles' shoulder is scraped and is probably going to bruise. His head is bleeding, and Laura holds a wad of paper towel to it while Stiles gets his jeans on. 

"What did they want?" Laura asked once Stiles was dressed and relatively calm. 

Stiles grabs the paper towel from Laura, holding it to his head as Derek helps him get to his feet. 

"They wanted Peter," Stiles grumbled, feeling nauseous just talking. He closes his eyes, and the two werewolves keep him from swaying too much. "Wanted to know about the pack."

"We gotta go tell mom," Derek said, already slinging Stiles' bag over his shoulder. 

The three of them make their way through the hallway, Laura and Derek on either side of Stiles. 

The drive was mostly fine until they got to the dirt road, and then Stiles was really having a hard time keeping the contents of his stomach where they belonged. 

"Stiles, you don't smell good," Derek said, looking back at him with worry. Stiles groans, eyes closed in an attempt to keep from being sick. 

"I think I have a concussion," Stiles whimpered. 

"We're almost home," Laura said, sounding just as worried. When they finally pull up at the house, the front door opens. 

Stiles stays in the back seat, feeling too bad to open the door. Derek does it for him, and helps him get out of the car. 

"What happened?"

Stiles blinks a bit at Peter, whos storming over. Stiles leans into him when he's close, burying his face into Peter's chest as arms circle around him. 

"Kate showed up," Derek growled. Stiles is walked into the house, and he stumbles a bit up the stairs. "When we got there Stiles was on the ground and bleeding."

"Come on, sweetheart," Peter spoke softly, setting Stiles down at the kitchen table. "Let me see."

Stiles pulls the wad of paper towel away, feeling his stomach churn when he sees how much blood soaked through. 

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"Shoulder," Stiles grunted, closing his eyes again. "Think I'm gonna be sick." 

Stiles leans forward, ready to curl in on himself, but Peter quickly grabs him and hauls him to the kitchen sink. The quick maneuver makes Stiles groan and his head spin before he's hurling into the basin. 

It only makes his head feel worse, and his knees give out. Peter keeps ahold of him, and Stiles struggles to keep his eyes from rolling into the back of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go! So Kate's getting a little brave, going after Stiles in public! Next chapter is going to have some more Peter taking care of Stiles, and its only gonna go downhill from here. I'm a couple chapters away from 60, and I'm starting to bring it to a close!
> 
> Things to look forward to: more soulmates, more sexy times, more hunters, and the fire. Friendly reminder i will be letting you guys know the chapter before the fire so those who need time to prepare or just don't want to read it won't be surprised.


	41. Chapter 41

Peter gets Stiles back into the chair when he's done throwing up, and a wet washcloth is pressed into the side of his head. Talia places her hand on the back of his neck, sucking his pain away. 

It makes it easier to keep his eyes open while Peter kneels in front of him, checking his shoulder and grimacing at his head wound. 

"Tell me what happened," he said softly. Stiles did, telling him as much as he could remember. 

"Don't tell my dad," Stiles mumbles after, head feeling too heavy. "He's already worried about almost freezing to death. If he finds out I brained myself on the sidewalk, he's going to wrap me in bubble wrap."

"Its not a bad idea," Peter huffed, but he conceded anyway. "Tell us what we have to do."

"Make sure I don't need stitches or something," Stiles sighs, letting his eyes close and tilting his head forward a little. 

The washcloth is removed and Stiles feels Peter's gentle fingers sifting through the blood soaked hair. Stiles barely feels it, and wonders if Talia's hand on his neck is sucking the pain away before it even registers. 

"It doesn't look like it," Talia murmurs. 

"I think we gotta clean it out too," Stiles huffs. He doesn't want to, his head is throbbing. He feels like his brain is soup sloshing around in his skull. 

Every movement hurts, the lights make his eyes throb. He's still nauseous. 

But Peter and Talia clean up the side of his head, and Vivian brings them a first aid kit the pack got when Stiles first moved in, just in case. 

They wrap gauze around his head, covering the wound, and disinfect the scrape on his shoulder from landing on the concrete. 

"Lets get you to bed," Talia hummed, helping Stiles get to his feet. Stiles makes a noise and lets Peter guide him upstairs. 

Peter takes care in stripping Stiles of his clothes before helping him into bed and pulling the covers under his chin. 

"You're too fragile," Peter murmurs, climbing into bed beside him, pulling Stiles softly into his chest and nosing at the back of his neck. 

Stiles closes his eyes, letting out a long sigh. He just wants to sleep so the throbbing and nausea goes away. 

"Can't help it," Stiles whispers. 

"I know."

"You gotta wake me up in case," Stiles goes on, already feeling the blessed heaviness of sleep. 

"In case what, sweetheart?"

"In case it's bad," he grumbled. "Ask me questions." Stiles falls asleep before he can hear what Peter says to that. 

*-*

Peter wakes him up what feels like ten minutes later. Stiles makes a little noise. 

"What day is it?" Peter asks. 

"Tuesday," Stiles mumbles, already falling back to sleep. Peter kisses his temple. 

*-*

"Stiles."

"Hhmmm."

"When's your birthday?"

"April."

"April what."

"Eighth."

*-*

When Peter wakes Stiles up again, he blinks his eyes open, feeling Peter running his fingers over Stiles' arm. 

"Whats my middle name?" Peter asked. 

"Ian," Stiles croaked out, rubbing at his eyes, which burn from lack of sleep -and possibly the concussion. 

"Good," Peter praised softly, kissing Stiles' cheek. "I had to Google what to do. You weren't very helpful."

Stiles rolled over a bit so he was laying on his back, and has to breathe through a wave of nausea. 

"Sorry," he said softly on an exhale. "Don't feel good."

"I know, sweetheart."

"Can I go back to sleep?"

Peter said he could, but Stiles doesn't think he'd be able to stay awake even if Peter told him no. 

*-*

The next time Stiles wakes up, he knows he's going to be sick. He feels the telling pressure at the base of his throat. 

"Gonna be sick," was the only warning he gave before Stiles scrambles out of the bed. Peter rushes him to the bathroom, where he empties his guts in the toilet. 

"Keep the light off," Stiles groans when Peter turns it on. Its instantly shut off, and Stiles groans. 

When he finishes, Peter has him swish mouth wash before taking him back to bed. 

The clock on the bedside table claims its not even nine, and Stiles crawls back into bed with a whine. 

"Do you think you can drink anything?"

Stiles tries a small nod, but the motion feels like there's a pinball machine in his skull, using his brain as the metal ball. 

Peter helps him sip some water and then Stiles is laying back down and curling into Peter's chest. 

"Didnt think I hit my head that hard," Stiles grumbled into his chest. Peter's fingers are running through the hair at the top of his head, pain pulling as he goes. 

"Is it feeling any better?" Peter asked. 

"Only when you do that," Stiles said softly, eyes closed. Peter hummed, kissing his head. "Kate's a bitch."

Peter chuckled at that. "A character trait shared in the hunter circles," he hummed. Stiles gave a small smile before settling further into his chest. 

"D'you think we could get away with killing the matriarch?"

"I think if we killed Victoria, Kate would be the matriarch, and I think she might be worse."

"We could kill Kate too," Stiles mumbled.

"We could," Peter sighed. Both of them knew they weren't serious. But it would make everything so much easier to deal with. Stiles fell back to sleep against Peter, listening to his deep breathing and steady heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go! So I'm taking a break writing this book for a little bit. I know I'm almost done. I'll still post daily because I have enough chapters written, but I thought I'd give a heads up in case I have to take longer between posts for the last few chapters. 
> 
> I've been feeling off lately. It might be depression but its coupled with this feeling of I'm forgetting something important or something isn't right and its really fucking with my mental health. I've been doing everything to try and figure out if I'm actually forgetting something but I don't know. 
> 
> I might just need a change of scenery, but I'm working 7 days a week and we have about 8 inches of snow so I can't really go anywhere. I might take a day drip somewhere to just kind of reset. 
> 
> Anyway, sorry for spilling, I just wanted to let you guys know in case I run out of chapters.


	42. Chapter 42

Stiles was cranky. He was cranky and he hurt. Peter had woken him up almost every hour until eight o'clock, and Stiles climbed his way out of bed. 

He showered, not using shampoo in his hair, but letting the water rinse his hair out -even the water stung, and after waiting for the water to run clear, he felt his headache worsen. 

He got dressed in his gym shorts and a worn soft tshirt, not bothering to dry his hair before he trudged down the hallway. 

"You going to school?" Cora asked at her door. Stiles grumbled at her, making his way downstairs and into the living room. 

"Playing hookie?" Laura asked, stuffing her text book into her bag at Stiles' feet. 

"My brain is mush," Stiles grunted, rolling to face the back of the couch and grumbling some more. 

Laura sat down at the small of Stiles' back and places a hand on Stiles' bruised and sore shoulder. 

"Mom's gonna go talk to the hunters," Laura said softly, pulling at Stiles' pain. "Theyve got a code, and attacking you isn't what they do."

"Code didn't stop Kate," Stiles grumbled, but he pulled his face from the cushion to look at Laura. 

"And it didnt stop Gerard either," he added, remembering the ambush so very long ago. 

Laura sighed, squeezing his arm. "Still," she said. "The code protects minors. You shouldn't have even been looked at twice."

Stiles rolled his eyes as best he could. "I murdered two people, Laura. Be being a minor isn't going to protect me."

Laura opens her mouth to speak when Peter steps in, arms crossed. "Time for school."

Laura sighed but nodded, standing up and grabbing her bag. Derek and Cora were already out the door. 

Stiles settled back into the couch, and Peter took Laura's spot at his lower back. 

"How are you feeling?"

"Like death," Stiles said, scowling. "My skull throbs every time I move my head, and there's pressure behind my eyes."

Peter's fingers rake through his hair softly, pulling at his pain until all Stiles feels is a mild headache. 

"You sure you don't want me to call your dad?"

"I'm sure," Stiles sighed, closing his eyes at the feeling of Peter's fingers on his scalp. "I'll be okay in a little bit."

"Okay," Peter hummed, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. "Go to sleep, I'll wake you up in a little bit for food."

"Okay," Stiles breathes. "Love you."

Peter kisses him again before pulling away. "Love you too, sweetheart."

*-*

Spring break feels like a vacation. Like a ten minute break in a twelve hour shift working nonstop. The instant the bell rings for last period, its like all the stress melts off Stiles' shoulders and he can finally get a lungful of air. 

No one really feels like celebrating birthdays, but they still have a small party on the ninth for Laura and himself. 

Issac and Boyd come -as always- but this time, Stiles invites Erica to join. Stiles is sixteen now, but he doesn't feel any older. 

He eats his cake -store bought this year- with a smile, and he laughs with his friends, but Stiles -like the rest of the pack- ignore the storm clouds threatening to open up overhead. 

The sheriff has managed an hour or two to visit before he has to be to work, so Stiles makes sure to spend as much time with him as possible, while also keeping up with his friends. 

"Ready for presents, sweetheart?" Peter smirks, standing next to John with his arms folded over his chest. Stiles frowns a bit at that. 

He wasn't expecting presents from the pack. Wirh everything going on, Stiles was surprised they'd remembered birthdays at all. 

Laura grins and loops an arm around Stiles, yanking him off his seat and half dragging him towards the porch. 

"Fuck yeah, we are," Laura grins. Stiles huffs, following her. They sit at the patio table, and then presents are exchanged. 

Laura and Stiles open their presents together -like they have for three years now- and by the end, the patio table is covered with wrapping paper and tissue paper. 

Stiles gets a couple flannel shirts from his dad, a leather-bound journal from Derek and Cora -"Cora has no money so I let her piggyback off me."- and a gift card to the arcade from Boyd and Issac. 

Laura gets him a red hoodie with a little embroidered Calcifer under the right shoulder, above his chest. Erica gets him a keychain. 

"For when you get a car," she grins. Stiles had talked non stop about Talia and his dad taking him to get his license a week ago -seriously, he's shocked Talia found time with hunters and alphas breathing down her neck. 

The keychain is short, one that'd loop around his wrist, made of leather with an S stamped into the end, and a little flourish that sort of looks like vines at the top. 

"I would've gotten your name but let's face it, no one has your name."

Stiles grins anyway. "I like it." Erica beems. 

"Which leads perfectly into my gift," Peter smirked, stepping forward and holding his hand out. Stiles eyes it before grabbing it and letting Peter haul him to his feet. 

Stiles glances around and noticez everyone is smiling too. Victor, Vivian, Mark, Mary, Talia, his dad, even Laura, Cora and Derek look like they're trying to hold back smirks of their own. 

Stiles turns back to Peter. "What is it?" Hes almost afraid to ask. It makes Peter smile wider before he reaches into his back pocket. 

Stiles frowns a bit more when he pulls out a bandana. 

"Spin."

Stiles does so reluctantly and Peter covers his eyes, knotting the fabric at the back of his head. Now Cora is giggling, and the excitement is practically palpable now. 

"Ready, sweetheart?"

"No," Stiles grumbled, making everyone laugh. Peter takes Stiles by the arms, chest pressing lightly into his back as he leads Stiles into the house. 

"Is it gonna jump out at me?" Stiles asked. 

"Not telling."

Stiles lets Peter lead him, hearing everyone else follow behind them. 

"Is it alive?"

"I'm not telling you," Peter huffed. Stiles let out a whine, nearly stopping right where he was. A nudge from Peter got him moving again. 

"I want a hint," Stiles said. He hated surprises. He hated not having an idea of what something is. It drove him crazy, and everyone who knew him knew that. What Peter was doing was cruel and unusual punishment. 

"Too bad," John chuckled. Stiles groans, trudging along. Stiles frowns when Peter leads them back outside, and he takes the stairs slowly to keep from tripping. 

They walk down the pathway to the dirt driveway and then Peter pulls him to a stop. 

"Ready?"

Stiles shifts on his feet, giving a small nod. The bandana is removed and Stiles blinks a little before his eyes widen. 

"Oh, my God."

Stiles almost trips in his mad dash to the blue jeep sitting in the driveway, dropping onto the hood. "Oh, my God you got me the jeep!"

"Of course I did," Peter smirked. 

"I got a jeep!" Stiles shouts, and then he's running full speed to Peter, who laughs loudly. Stiles jumps into his arms, curling around him like an octopus and hugging him hard. 

"Thank you, thank you!" Stiles gushes into Peter's throat. He pulls back and kisses Peter, momentarily forgetting his dad was in the group of onlookers. 

The sheriff cleared his throat and Stiles yanked his head back, breaking the kiss, but still grinning. Peter grins back and lets Stiles drop back to his feet. 

"Want to take her for a ride?" Peter asks, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a set of keys. 

"Can I?" Stiles asks, eyes wide, snatching the keys from Peter before looking at Talia and John. When he gets a nod from both, he jumps into the air and runs back to the jeep.

Erica, Issac, Boyd and Derek manage to cram into the back seat, with Cora and Laura up front with Stiles. 

"Back by dinner," Talia calls as Stiles tears down the dirt road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so understanding. I have a day off next Friday and I'm gonna take it and go somewhere. I haven't decided where yet but maybe a couple hours out and do a little therapy thrifting in a new town. And then I'm definitely taking myself out to dinner. 😂
> 
> I hope you guys like this chapter, I loved writing the last half, with Stiles getting the jeep.


	43. Chapter 43

Stiles picks up his friends the week school starts up again. Instead of walking after practice, Stiles drives Boyd and Issac to their homes before driving Derek back home. 

The hunters try to corner Stiles a couple times, but Derek or the other two are always around. It's either deal with a very pissed off teenage werewolf or blow the lid off of the supernatural can of worms. 

So Stiles is relatively safe. And Peter works from home. He's a glorified park ranger -like most of the pack- so it's not like anybody misses him when Peter stays home most of the time. 

There's still no word from the alpha pack, but Stiles knows they're out there, waiting. Stiles kind of wishes they'd show up, at least to get the hunters off the pack's backs. 

And if problems couldn't get any worse, Erica has her first seizure since Stiles started hanging out with her -at least the first seizure Stiles has witnessed. 

It happens during their free period. Usually Stiles spends it with Laura, but Derek and Erica have a test they need help studying for, so Stiles agrees to help, since he's already studied for it. And by study for it, Stiles means snuck into the filing cabinet and stole the answers. 

They're in the lower part of the library, studying in the corner between two bookshelves when Derek snaps his head up from the book. 

"Erica?" Stiles looks up too, frowning at the worry in Derek's clipped voice. Erica is staring a bit down at her book, but her body is unnaturally stiff. 

"Hey, Erica," Stiles reaches for her, and Erica sucks in a little breath, eyelashes fluttering. Both boys jump into action the instant she starts shaking, and Stiles quickly grabs her shoulders before she can fall. 

"Go get help," Stiles urges, shoving Derek away while also holding Erica's arms to her sides. 

Derek scrambles to his feet and runs off. Stiles turns back to Erica, not knowing what to do. Her hands are cramping up, her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she's peed herself. 

"Erica, Erica, its okay," Stiles rushes, holding her and trying to hard to keep her from hurting herself. 

There's a small crowd forming, and Stiles grits his teeth, ducking his head down and pulling at the spark deep in his chest, willing it towards his skin. 

"Shh, you're okay," Stiles whispered. 

"Move, get out of the way."

Stiles looks up to see Laura shoving her way through the crowd and she drops to her knees beside Erica, grabbing her hands. 

Stiles watches black lines fill Laura's veins as she pulls pain, hidden from everyone else. 

Stiles pushes his magic into Erica, trying to feel where its starting from and hoping to cut it off. 

It takes a lot of energy, and Stiles feels drained, but he pushes himself, and finally, Erica's convulsing calms down to weak tremors. 

"You're okay, you're okay," Stiles repeats, over and over, until Derek's running back with two men in EMT uniforms. 

She misses school the next day, and Stiles worries about her. 

"Talia?"

Stiles stands in the door to Talia's office later, fingers twisting together. "Yes?"

Stiles takes that as an invitation and steps fully into the office, sliding into the chair across from Talia. 

"What is it?"

"Can the bite help Erica?" Stiles asked softly, chewing on his lip. Talia sighs, taking her glasses off and setting them on the desk. 

"If the bite takes, I'm sure it could," Talia said. She continues before Stiles can ask. "I know you're worried about your friend. I've talked with her parents, and she's doing fine right now."

"But what if the next one she's not fine?" Stiles asks. 

"Sweetie, its not as simple as just biting her and fixing all her problems," Talia sighs. "We'd have to introduce her and her parents to the supernatural, and after I get concent, there's a good chance the bite won't take, and she'd die.

"Shes on medication to help," Talia continues. "And you know I'd love nothing more than to help your friend, but I'm in no place to grow the pack. Its too dangerous for us, as well as for her."

Stiles knows this already. He can only nod in disappointment. He glances up at Talia, chewing his lip a little. 

"But you would, if you could?" Stiles asked. "If the hunters weren't here and Deucalion wasn't threatening us, you'd offer her the bite?"

"I would," Talia nodded. 

*-*

But it doesn't end there. Issac shows up three weeks later with a cut on his cheek and a bruised wrist. It makes something in Stiles' gut clench, and his mouth turns dry. 

"What happened?"

"Ran into the door jam," Issac mutters, not meeting Stiles' eye. Stiles looks at Derek, and the werewolf is frowning. He gives a small shake of his head, and Stiles' heart plummets. 

They go through their classes, and Stiles fidgets and can't focus. He wants to ask Issac, but he knows Issac won't say anything. Knkws from experience that he won't. 

So he stays silent when they play lacrosse, and doesn't bring it up when he drives them home afterwords. 

He lets himself smile and laugh and get as lost in the conversation as Issac does, and when he drops the boy off, Derek climbs into the front seat, and the two stare up at the house in silence. 

"Do you think its his dad?" Derek asked softly. Stiles doesn't want to leave, but he puts the jeep in gear and peels away. 

"Yeah," Stiles said, gripping the steering wheel tightly. The two drive in silence. Stiles tries to find a way to get Issac to fess up. He wants to help. 

They make it home, and Stiles goes upstairs, shutting himself in his room and pulling the protection book into his lap. Maybe he can use it on Issac, make it so his dad can't touch him. 

He's finished with the book by the time Peter comes in to tell him dinner is ready. 

Stiles has his notebook open, his handwriting scratchy and almost impossible to read. But Stiles has to look over his notes, trying to find something that might work. Something his magic can latch onto. 

"Can I try something?" Stiles asked, looking up at Peter who is leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. 

"Sure," Peter hummed, straightening and walking over to sit in front of Stiles. Stiles shuffles closer so their knees touch, and reaches for Peter's offered hands. Its a position they've taken plenty of times. 

Stiles closes his eyes, remembering how to do it, searches deep into his center, finding the always buzzing, frantic ball of sparking electricity deep in his chest. He grabs at a thread, pulls it to the surface and feels his palms warm. 

Stiles' spark is much easier to grasp than any other magic he's learned to control. It manifests itself like the burning end of a sparkler, the molten hot liquid glass, the bright red of melted metal, the spark before ignition. 

Its bright and hot and dangerous, but its easy for Stiles to use. So he does. His palms are warm, but not hot enough for Peter to be hurt, and he pushes into him further, feels his spark transfer from his hands to Peter's in a way not unlike how Peter siphons pain. 

When he finishes, his hands are cooling, the ball of spark not as bright as Stiles lets it go, and he blinks, looking up at Peter. 

"Did it work?" He asked. 

"I don't feel any different," Peter sighed. Stiles slumped. It was a repeat of every other time he's tried. Peter leans forward and kisses his almost pouty lips, one hand under his chin to angle his head up.

"Keep working on it, sweetheart," Peter smiled softly. "Don't give up, okay?"

"Okay," Stiles sighed, leaning forward to kiss Peter back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles just can't seem to catch a break.
> 
> Thank you all for your understanding comments, its really appreciated. I'm definitely going to have a me day on Friday, and then I'm going to finish writing this book! 
> 
> I'm thinking the book will end at 65 chapters, or around that number, I'm not sure yet. Don't worry though it won't end until Peter and Stiles have the best sex of Stiles' life!!


	44. Chapter 44

"What are you doing?" Derek asked, dropping to the floor across from Stiles. 

"Astral projection," Stiles grunted out, legs folded under him as he closes his eyes. He hasn't tried this since the first time, when he got stuck. 

He's sitting with his back pressed to the bed, hands dropping onto his knees. 

Above him, Peter is laying on his back, shoulders propped up by a pillow and a book balanced on his chest. 

"I didn't know you could do that," Derek huffed, settling back against the bookshelf a couple feet from Stiles. 

"I only did it once before and it was an accident," Stiles confesses. He keeps his eyes closed and finds his center, where his magic lay. 

Both werewolves stay silent while Stiles tries to remember what he'd done the first time. He had been trying to feel, not inward, but out. 

Stiles pushes out, brows furrowed. He feels something aside from his magic seep from his skin, and he blinks his eyes open, breath whooshing out. 

He's in the bedroom still, still facing Derek, who's flipping through one of Stiles' comic books. 

Stiles turns his head to see Peter, glancing down at him before turning back to his book. Stiles huffs and stands, shaking out his hands. 

"I can't do it," Stiles grunts, taking a couple steps away from where he was sitting. 

"You've only been at it for ten minutes, sweetheart," Peter said softly. "Keep trying."

Stiles spins around to snap at Peter that it took less time the first time he did it, but he stills when he sees himself sitting on the floor. 

"Fuck."

Peter pulls the book down and looks over at Stiles -the him on the floor -with a frown. 

"This is weird."

"Did you do it?" Derek asked. 

"This didnt happen last time," Stiles said, walking up to himself. "I'm talking, and I'm watching myself talking."

Peter smirks. 

"You could sneak into the teachers' lounge or the girls' locker rooms," Derek smirked. Stiles turned to look at him with a pinched expression. 

"Dude, no, I don't want to see naked girls," he grunted. "I'd go watch Peter take a shower."

Peter laughed at Derek's look of utter disgust. 

"You don't have to astral project to see me shower, sweetheart."

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Derek blanched. Stiles laughed. He walked over to Derek and squatted down at his side. 

He reaches out a finger and pokes Derek's side, finger phasing through him. 

"Can you feel this?"

"Feel what?" Peter asked. Derek's looking around like he might be able to catch Stiles' projection. 

"I'm giving Derek a wet willy," Stiles said, laughing when Derek full-body jerked away, arms flailing. 

"Thats disgusting," Derek growled, covering his ears wirh both hands and scowling at nothing. 

"Quit being a baby," Stiles huffed. 

"Why don't you try exploring a bit," Peter said, an amused smirk on his lips as he looks at the book on his chest. Stiles instantly stilled and turned to look at him. 

Peter glanced down at the him sitting on the floor and ran soft fingers through his hair. Stiles could feel it. 

"Don't worry, I'll be here waiting for you, okay?" Peter promises. He wonders if the Stiles sitting on the floor still gives off chemo-signals. 

"Okay," Stiles breathes. He turns on his heels and leaves, taking a deep breath. He closes his eyes and pushes ourwords some more. When he opens them, he's at Woodland pond. 

"I'm at the pond," Stiles said, looking around. 

"How far can you go?" Derek asked, sounding awed. His voice is far away now, muffled, like Stiles' ears are filled with cotton. 

"I don't know," Stiles confesses. 

He's again, not really walking, but more floating through the air. His astral projection doesn't really have anything below the knee. When he looks down at himself he's transparent. 

"See how far you can go," Derek orders, full of curiosity. 

So Stiles does. He pushes himself outward, knowing Peter will still be by his physical body to pull him back. 

He finds a tulleric current and follows it until it tapers off into nothing. 

Stiles slows to a stop, eyes widening as he looks around. There are palm trees. Actual palm trees and Stiles feels his heart stutter a bit in excitement. 

He's on the coast, further south than Sacramento from what he could tell. He lets out a small hysterical laugh, grabbing at his hair. 

"Where are you, sweetheart?"

Peter's voice is even further away now, almost impossible to hear. But Stiles can hear the inflections, the sort of vague shape of his words, and puts it together himself. 

"Can you hear me?" Stiles asked, frowning a bit. He wondered if it worked both ways. 

"Yes," comes the inaudible reply. Stiles almost can't make out its Peter whos talking to him. 

"I can't hear you," Stiles sighs. "Sounds like your talking through a cement wall."

Peter says something more, but its longer, and Stiles can't decipher it. Stiles scowls, but he doesn't respond. 

He continues, wonders how far he can go before his spark pulls him back. He stops suddenly at that. What if he goes too far, and can't get back? What if he's severed from his physical body if he goes too far. 

"Peter," he nearly whispers, heartbeat picking up pace. "Peter what if I can't come back?"

Peter's response comes, but Stiles can't make out the words. Stiles doesn't freak out. He doesn't. 

He takes two quick deep breaths before frantically searching for himself. He got back to his physical body by pulling his magic in, instead of pushing out. 

He does so, yanking as hard as he can. Stiles yelps when it feels like the ground below falls out from under him, and he's yanked through the air. 

Everything passes by in a whirl and just as suddenly, it stops. Hes in the woods now, not where he needs to be. 

Hes barely caught his breath before he's pulling in again, trying to get back to his body. 

The feeling of both being yanked back and falling down has Stiles grasping at nothing, breath forced from him like a punch to the gut, and he pinches his eyes shut, willing himself to slow down. 

He does, seconds before he's shoved back into his physical form. Stiles gasps, eyes flinging open. Peter's kneeling in front of him, and behind the werewolf, Derek looks on with worry. 

"I don't want to do that again," Stiles said, coughing a bit and tasting blood on his tongue. 

There's a steady flow from his nose, and Stiles licks his upper lip, tasting the crimson liquid. 

"Okay, sweetheart," Peter nodded. He's got both hands cupping Stiles' jaw, thumbs brushing under his eyes. 

Stiles lifted his arm up, rubbing the back of his wrist against his upper lip. His nose is bleeding pretty bad. 

"Lets get you cleaned up."

Stiles lets Peter pull him to his feet, and his legs shake, like he's overworked the muscle. 

Derek follows behind as Peter leads him to the bathroom. Stiles sits on the toilet, chin tilted up to try and stem the flow of blood down his neck. 

His clothes are ruined, and Stiles thinks there might be blood on the hardwood too. 

"What happened?" Derek asked, shifting from foot to foot at the door. 

Peter hands Stiles a wet wad of toilet paper and he presses it to his nose, keeping his head tilted back. 

"It was like the further I got the harder it was to hear," Stiles huffed, one nostril clogged wirh blood and toilet paper. 

Peter kneels down in front of him, using a wet rag to clean the blood running down Stiles' neck and chin. 

"Then, I freaked out-"

"We know, we could smell it," Derek interrupted. Stiles rolled his eyes. 

"-and I pulled myself back the way I did the first time, only I pulled too hard and I kind of full Nelson slammed back into my body."

Peter scowled up at Stiles from his spot on the floor, unimpressed with Stiles hurting himself, even if it was unintentional. 

"Lets stick close by next time," Peter sighed. "You're still learning. Maybe its best you take smaller steps." 

"Didnt need smaller steps with anything else," Stiles grumbled, finally able to lower his chin when Peter finished cleaning up the blood. Peter stood, patting his cheek in a condescending way before leaning the bathroom and tugging Derek out with him. 

Stiles grumbled some more, but sighed and changed out his toilet paper when the one on his nose was full.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Astral projection practice!! Stiles is slowly working himself up to becoming a master spark!


	45. Chapter 45

Peter wakes up early. He doesn't know what wakes him up, but after laying in bed for a while, he decides it was probably just his body deciding he's slept too long. 

He sighs and glances at the clock on the nightstand. It's almost six, and Stiles' alarm should be going off in a little while. 

Peter looks over at his boy, his face half stuffed into the pillow his arms are bracketing. Stiles has always been a tummy sleeper when he wasnt held against Peter. 

Stiles' fingers twitch a little in his sleep, mouth slightly open. Peter smiles quietly at him, shifting so he can watch him on his side. 

The blankets have fallen off in Stiles' sleep, most likely pushed off in the heat, and Peter can see the small dimples at the base of his mole splattered back. 

Peter reaches a hand out, running feather light fingers across Stiles' spine, his skin cool to the touch from the air conditioning. 

Stiles shivers a bit when Peter reaches the spot between his shoulder blades, mouth closing and arms tightening around the pillow. Hes still fast asleep, so Peter continues his gentle touches. 

His hand moves down, past the dimples and to the waistband of his sleep pants. They're loose -Peter's size- and its easy for Peter to slip a hand in. 

He leans forward, kissing Stiles' shoulder softly as he dips his hand under his boxers, running a finger down Stiles' crach, pressing his finger down until he finds the soft muscle of his asshole. 

Peter can't help the low rumble from leaving Peter's throat as he softly circles the muscle, kissing Stiles' skin softly. 

He smirks a bit when Stiles slowly wakes up, his hips shifting. Peter bites at the skin of his boy's shoulder and Stiles shudders. 

"Peter," Stiles whines softly, voice rough from sleep. Peter hasn't quite pushed in far enough to penetrate, just continues the pressured circles. 

"Good morning," Peter spoke, voice low and soft, lips. Stiles bends his knees, pushing his hips up a little into Peter's touch. 

Peter pulls his hand out and his smirk grows when Stiles whimpers, his hips falling back to the mattress. 

"You're mean," Stiles huffs, face still pressed into the pillow. Peter shifts forward, kissing the side of his mouth. 

"Turn over, sweetheart," Peter orders. Stiles lazily pulls his arms down and shifts onto his back, eyelids still heavy. 

Peter pulled the blankets down further, and grabbed Stiles' waistbands, pulling softly. Stiles lifts his hips, allowing Peter to easily pull his clothes down to his knees. 

"I wanted to wake you up with my mouth on your cock," Peter murmured, reveling in the hitched breath, the stutter of Stiles' heart and the strong scent of arousal. "But you sleep on your stomach."

Peter licks a strip up Stiles' half hard cock, wasting no time in sucking the head into his mouth. 

Stiles moans loud, slapping a hand over his mouth. Its too early, the pack still sleeping in hearing distance. 

"Peter," Stiles shudders, free hand fisting in the sheets at Stiles' hips, legs tensing at Peter's ruthless pace. 

He wants his boy hard and cumming, and half mast just won't do. He pulls off when the boy is fully hard, smirking at Stiles' wide eyed stare. 

"Ne-next time just roll me over," Stiles finally says, which makes Peter laugh. 

"Will do, baby," he promises. He reaches forward, running a finger across Stiles' chin, then pulling back his lower lip. 

"Get me wet for you, sweetheart."

Stiles blushes bright red, heart beating fast, and he wriggles under Peter, looking for friction. He opened his mouth and takes two fingers. 

Peter lowers his hips down, rutting against Stiles' cock, trying to find friction for himself as Stiles sucks lewdly on his fingers, tongue working itself between his fingers and over the tips. 

"God, baby, I can't get over your mouth," Peter growls lowly. Stiles practically mewls against his fingers. 

When Peter finally pulls them out, there's a string of spit connecting the tip of his middle finger to Stiles' lower lip. 

Peter leans forward and kisses him roughly, licking into his hot mouth and pulling out a soft noise before pulling back and shifting down his body. 

Peter settles between his boy's legs, sucking down his cock, which curls slightly towards his belly in the most delicious way, his hand moving behind him to finger his asshole. 

Stiles keens, arching his back and gritting his teeth as Peter pushes a spit slick finger into his hole up to the first knuckle. 

His other hand grips Stiles at the base of his cock, holding it steady while Peter licks and kisses him. 

"Peter, Peter -ah- oh my God, Peter," Stiles sobs softly. Peter smirks and sucks on the head of his cock, pressing in further with his finger. 

He's tight, and the spit doesn't work as well as lube would, but he manages to get his finger in to the third knuckle, and easily finds Stiles' prostate. 

Stiles shoves his fist into his mouth, trying desperately to muffle his cries and moans. Peter could care less if the pack heard. He wants them to. Wants them to know how good he's taking care of his mate. 

Stiles doesn't have the stamina to last longer than a couple minutes at most -Peter's definitely going to work on that- so he makes them the best few minutes of Stiles' life. 

Peter pulls his finger out almost all the way and adds his middle finger, stretching Stiles just to the first knuckle. He doesn't push further than that, just holds as he takes Stiles down as far as he can, nose brushing against the corse hair. 

"I'm gonna-" Stiles nearly yelps as he cums down Peter's throat, whole body jerking through the waves of his orgasm, until he's panting and going soft in Peter's mouth. 

Peter lets him slip out and slowly pulls his fingers out before crawling up his body and nuzzling Stiles' neck. His cinnamon and balsam fir scent is always so much sharper after orgasm, and Peter wants nothing more than to smell it as often as he can. 

"Sex smells good on you, sweetheart," Peter murmurs against his neck, worrying a hickey into his pale skin. Stiles' breath hitched, arms lifting to curl around Peter's neck. 

"Can I do you now?" Stiles whispers, sounding almost timid and breathy. Peter smirks against his neck, biting down on the bruising skin under his jaw and pulling out a whimper. 

Stiles' alarm goes off, and Peter pulls back, leaning forward to peck Stiles' lips before rolling off him. "Maybe later," he hums. 

Stiles pouts, but shuts the alarm off. Peter watched as Stiles stumbles out of bed, forgetting his pants around his knees. 

He jumps back to his feet, face flushed as he yanks his boxers up, kicking his pants off. 

Peter licks his lower lip, watching Stiles flit around the bedroom for his clothes. He can still taste him on his tongue, and he smirks, palming himself through his own sleep pants. 

Stiles stills at the sight, cheeks burning brighter before he looks at Peter with wide eyes. 

"Hurry up," Peter said through his smirk. "The sooner you finish school the sooner you can 'do me'."

Stiles nearly chokes on air when Peter dipped his hand into his boxers, jerking himself as he laid in bed. 

"Thats no fair," Stiles whined. "Can't I just skip first period?"

"No," Peter smirked. He takes his hand from his cock and sits up. He can hear his nieces and nephew scrambling down the stairs for a quick breakfast. "Now, get going." 

"Mean," Stiles grunted, huffing to the door and disappearing down the hallway. Peter only laughed before falling to his side, pressing his face into Stiles' side of the bed, inhaling loudly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wake up sex!!! What do you guys think?


	46. Chapter 46

Stiles hasnt forgotten about Issac. He's been thinking about when to approach him, and he seems to get his chance a couple days into summer. 

Issac is lagging in track, so Stiles slows down to jog beside him. They're in the very back, and Stiles slows down just a little, glad to see Issac slow down too to accommodate him. 

Then he huffs and pulls to a stop, putting his hands on his knees and exaggerating his exhaustion. 

"You good?" Issac asked, breathing just slightly uneven. Stiles nodded, straightening and beginning to walk at a slow pace. Issac keeps at his side. 

"All good, just out of shape," he grins. Issac grins back and the two decide to walk the rest of the way back. 

Issac's bruised wrist is an ugly puke yellow and green, splotches of purple still around his bones. 

"Wrist still hurt?" Stiles asked. Issac glanced down at it, then covers it up and nods. 

"Just a little," he said softly. 

"I get it," Stiles said, chewing his lip. "I ran into doors all the time."

He can see Issac looking over at him nervously, so Stiles steels his nerves and glances over at him for just a second before turning back to the front. 

"And fell down stairs," he adds. "Tripped on the curb. I was very clumsy."

The two walk along in silence, Stiles not wanting to push Issac and scare him off. 

They walk for a while longer, and Stiles is content to let the conversation end there. He knows when it was him, just having someone who knew made all the difference. 

Though in Stiles' case the person who knew also had the right to take Stiles away. He would be forever grateful for Peter and Talia to helping him and his dad. He wanted Issac to know someone was willing to help him too. Someone knew. 

"You don't look clumsy now," Issac finally said. Theyve reached the bus, and Stiles can hear coach shouting at the stragglers to hurry up. 

Stiles glances over and smiles a little. "Why do you think I live with the Hales, and not at home?" He asks. Issac blinks, like the thought never occurred to him before. 

Stiles hooks an arm around Issac's shoulder and picks up the pace, the two boys climbing into the bus. 

They find a bench and plop down into it, Issac at the window. Derek and Boyd sit across the isle, Derek tilting his head a bit to the side in silent inquiry. 

Stiles just shrugs, and Derek knows he'll find out later. On the bus ride back across town to school, Derek, Boyd and Stiles talk about lacrosse and basketball. Issac doesn't contribute, but Stiles doesn't mind. It's a lot to process and Issac needs to think. 

*-*

Stiles makes a right without a word to his passenger. Derek glances at him with a frown, but doesn't say anything. 

Stiles goes straight when he should go left, and again, Derek glances at him. 

"Where are we going?" He asked. Stiles turns right again. 

"I think that SUV is following us," Stiles grunts, lifting his eyes to see through the rear view mirror. 

Derek scowls and turns in his seat. He stays turned around when Stiles makes a turn down a small one lane road that separates the high school and the middle school. 

Stiles takes it because there's absolutely no reason for the SUV to drive after them. There's no houses on this road, it leads out into the country, where the only farm in Beacon County is. 

The SUV turns down the road. Derek lets out a growl and turns back in his seat. "Hunters?"

"I think so," Stiles sighed. "Its their signature car, at least." Stiles decides to fuck it, and with a quick jerk of the steering wheel, Stiles turns sharp down another side street heading back to town. He picks up speed as he does. 

"I'm calling uncle Peter," Derek grunted, already pulling his phone out. Stiles nodded, going way over the speed limit and taking turns way too fast for it to be safe. 

Stiles doesn't listen much to Peter and Derek's conversation. He's too focused on trying to lose the hunters in the winding roads of the subdivision. 

He's paying too much attention on the SUV behind them, that he misses the one that slams on its breaks in front of them, blocking the road. 

"Stiles, break!" Derek shouts, dropping his phone into the foot well and slamming his hands against the dash. 

Stiles curses and slams in the breaks, tires squealing. Stiles turns the wheel, trying not to hit the black SUV, and the jeep rocks to a stop. 

"Go, go, go!" Stiles rips his seatbelt off and flings himself at the door. Derek is right behind him, the two ready to run off. 

Stiles yelps and drops to his knees when something other slams into his head. It leaves him disoriented and dizzy. 

"Stiles!"

Stiles groans, eyes closing to stave off the nausea. He can't even focus on the growling and scuffling going on around him. 

"Surprise," Kate exclaims. Stiles drops to his hands, feeling his stomach turn over. "You're not the only magic user in Beacon Hills."

Stiles thinks he's being lifted up, thinks he hears Derek fighting someone's hold, and then Kate is in his face, smirking, and holding a gun. 

Stiles can't find it in himself to be afraid. It might be because of whatever the other magic user slammed him with, but his mind can't seem to orient him. 

She curls an arm around Stiles' neck, pressing his back to her front, and he can feel the cool metal pressing into his temple. 

"Careful, puppy," Kate practically purred. The scuffling stopped. Stiles lifts shaky hands to grasp Kate's arm, feeling like the ground is flipping. "You hurt my friends, I hurt yours."

"Okay," Derek says, and Stiles can see him holding his hands up, beta shift falling away. He's scowling at Kate, but his green eyes are worried. 

Stiles can't even find his center, he can't figure out where his magic is. He's useless. 

"In the car, puppy," Kate said. Stiles' legs give out a little, his head rolling back onto the hunter's shoulder and he groans. 

"What are you doing to him?" Derek demands, and Stiles thinks he hears a whine. He wants to tell Derek he's fine, wants to tell him to rip their throats out, but his words come out garbled, and makes no sense. 

"Just a little spell to keep him pliant," Kate smirks. Stiles can hear the smirk. "Now, are you going to give us a hard time, or am I going to have to put a bullet in your friend?"

Stiles doesn't know what happens, but he's being lifted off his feet and carried bridal style. It further disoriented him. 

Hes in the SUV, head in someone's lap. He feels fingers carding through his hair, they're shaky. Stiles blinks and looks up to see Derek. 

"Der," he manages, groaning a bit. Derek turns glowing blue eyes down to him, and Stiles knows he's terrified. Stiles wants to tell him its going to be okay, but he doesn't know. 

Derek growls when someone takes Stiles' wrists. Cold metal clamps around him, but his brain can't process whats happening. 

"Hush, puppy, they're not gonna hurt him."

They're driving, Stiles knows, but he doesn't know where. Stiles thinks he might even fallen asleep or blacked out, but when he wakes up, he's sitting in a wooden chair, and his wrists are duct tapped to the arm rests. 

Hes not disoriented anymore, but he groans a bit at the feeling of utter weakness he feels in just muscles. 

"Stiles."

Stiles lifts his head to see Derek. He's hand cuffed to a chain link fence, and there's already blood on his shirt, like someone hit him in the nose. 

"You okay?" Stiles asked, voice rough. He blinked the blurriness from his eyes, lifting his head up. 

"I'm okay," Derek nodded, though he looked terrified. "They've got a mentalist."

"Makes sense," Stiles grunts. Whoever the mentalist was, they sure as fuck knew how to mess with his head. 

Stiles pulls at his arms, trying to feel any weak points in the duct tape. It looked like whoever bound him wrapped his wrists in multiple layers. He wouldn't be able to break free. 

He scowls at his wrists and the metal bangles clamped tightly around them. 

They didn't look like they served any kind of purpose. "You think Peter found the jeep?"

"He heard the whole thing," Derek sighed. "Hopefully he knows where we are."

Stiles nods. He wasn't going to sit around and wait for the calvary though. He straightens in his chair and closes his eyes, breathing deeply. 

Derek watches silently, and Stiles reaches for his center, for the magic that lives there. Its dull, weak and flickering, and Stiles frowns at it. 

He picks at the loose thread, pulls, but it disintegrates in his fingers. 

"Somethings wrong," Stiles blinks. He looks up at Derek anxiously. "I can't get to my magic."

"You can thank those pretty little bracelets for that." Stiles and Derek both jump at the voice, and turn to see Kate, shoulder leaning into the doorway. She's smirking. 

Behind her is two other men. One looks like a hunter -all black tactical gear, a holster strapped to his thigh and a nasty looking scar down the side of his face, like whoever he was hunting got in a few good swipes with claws. 

The second man looks relatively normal. He's in faded jeans and a loose tshirt. His hair is longer and flops into his eyes. 

Kate sauntered into the room, still smirking. 

"We got them custom made, just for you," she said, leaning into Stiles' space. "Think of them as parental controls. You can't use your magic as long as they're on."

"What the fuck do you want," Stiles demanded, fighting down his anxiety. Kate's smirk widens, and she puts a hand on Stiles' arm, leaning forward. Stiles leans back. 

"I want to play," she said. Her eyes rake over Stiles' face, then down to his chest. Stiles forces his breaths to come out controlled.

"Its been a long time since I've had a plaything," she smiles. Stiles feels his throat closing up as Kate lifts her other hand to press against his chest. "Now I've got two. We're gonna have so much fun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp we got drama!! Next chapter is gonna have a bit of mind torture and momentary memory loss!!


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning in end notes. Its nothing too bad but the warning is there for anyone who needs it before reading.

Stiles gasped, hands gripping the arm rests so tight his fingers cramped. He kicked out with his feet, the soles of his convers scuffing the cement floor. 

His eyes rolled into the back of his head. He felt like his head was splitting in two, and he cried out, arms shaking. 

"He's fighting it," the mentalist grunted. Stiles could feel his fingers digging painfully into the sides of his head. 

"St-stahp, please-" 

"Keep going," Kate ordered, sounding bored. Stiles whimpered, body falling back into the chair when his arms gave out. His feet slid across the floor. He reached up with his hands, fingers grasping at air as he sucked in a breath. 

Stiles could feel the mentalist in his head, sifting through his mind like flipping through a catalog. Stiles' own spark was fighting him every step of the way, and it was excruciating. 

He let out a broken sob, his cheeks wet from the never ending tears. 

Derek howled on the other side of the room. The other hunter had electrical currents running through his body while Kate played bad touch with a knife. 

"He wouldn't be in this much pain if you just told us what we wanted to know," Kate reminded the werewolf. Stiles let out a long cry, body shaking wirh an effort to keep the mentalist out. 

"Fuck you," Derek growled. Stiles heard the grunt and whine, the sound of the knife slicing through bone. 

"Ask nicely, puppy."

Stiles trembled, kicking his feet, looking for something to help. "Please," he hiccuped. "Please, stop, stop it hurts, please."

"He's strong," the mentalist grunted, pushing harder. Stiles wept, loud and ugly and in so much fucking pain. 

"How strong?" Kate asked, stepping up to them. She sounded curious. Stiles could only sob, his foot finally catching something. It was Kate's ankle. 

"He's got so much untapped magic," the mentalist sounded winded, frustrated. His dad sounded like that when he struggled to get the bolt loose on the tire of his car. 

"Can you tell what he is?" Kate asked. The two of them speaking above Stiles like he wasn't begging and sobbing for them to stop. 

"Not yet," the mentalist said. "He keeps pushing me out."

"Push him back."

A surge had Stiles nearly blacking out. His ass lifted off the seat as he shouted, eyes pinching shut. He falls back into the seat, nearly falling out of it. 

"Stop it! You're killing him!" Derek growled. Stiles sobbed, trying desperately to get his hands free. 

"We could," Kate chuckled. "This isn't killing him. Its just extremely painful."

Kate's face came into view, and Stiles panted, not being able to help the whimpers and the sobs and the hitched breaths. 

"Just let him in, and it'll all be over so much faster."

Stiles couldnt. "N-no," he gasped. The mentalist pushed harder and Stiles wailed. Derek shouted. 

"He's a spark," the mentalist gasped, his hold on Stiles loosening. Stiles choked on a sob, grateful for the reprieve if only for a moment. 

His head falls forward out of the man's grip. 

"Fuck," Kate breathed. Then, she was kneeling forward and taking Stiles by the hair, angling his head up. She smirks. 

"All that power in such a little boy," she said. "You have no idea how powerful you are, do you?"

"Get these off," Stiles gasped out, voice weak and wobbling. "And fi-find out."

Kate laughed, then nodded to the man behind Stiles. Hands gripped his head again and Stiles fought weakly. 

"No, please, don't."

"Push hard, break him," Kate demands. Stiles screams. 

*-*

Stiles is disoriented when he wakes up. He doesn't know where he is, what's going on. There's a man kneeling in front of him wirh a knife. 

Danger is the first thing that filters in and he jerks upright and away from the man. He feels like he got run over by a fifth wheel repeatedly. 

"Don't, please," he rasped out. The man looked up at him, eyes a piercing blue. He had a beard, blond with salt and pepper. 

He doesn't say anything, and cuts through the layers of duct tape. Stiles doesn't move. The man stands and moves across the room. 

There's a growl and Stiles looks up. Its dark out, but he can make out the shapes of two people. "Why are you helping us?"

"We're supposed to live by a code," the other shape said, his voice deeper, more gravelly. "This isn't right."

"Where's everyone else?"

"The alphas are here, they're more important than you two."

One of the shapes rushes for Stiles, kneeling down in front of him and grabbing his hands. "Hey, Stiles, you okay?"

Stiles manages a small nod, and the teenager turns to look back at the man. "Get him out of here," he said to the boy kneeling in front of Stiles. 

"What about you?" The boy asked, pulling Stiles up out of the chair. 

"I'll be fine," the man said. "Now get out of here before they come back."

Stiles is helped up the stairs in a rush. He looks over at the boy, frowning. He knows him, but can't place him. Stiles knows he's important though. 

"You're bleeding," Stiles mumbles. They're on the first floor now, and Derek is forcing them to move faster. 

Derek looks at Stiles with worry and a flash of blue eyes. Stiles blinks at him. "Fuck, Stiles, are you okay?"

They're outside. Stiles knows this street. 

"I can't," Stiles winced. "I can't remember where we are."

The boy's steps falter, but he recovers quickly, and Stiles lets the boy lead him away from the house. 

"What can you remember?" He asked, pulling Stiles along. They're in someone's back yard, running towards town. Its evening, and he's covered in blood. 

Stiles frowns. The last thing he remembered. He didnt know the last thing he remembered. It freaked him out. "I don't know," he gasped, stopping in the middle of someone's back yard as panic sets in. 

"I don't know," he repeats, chest heaving and hands beginning to shake. The boy's eyes widen and he rushes to Stiles, hands on his shoulders. 

"Hey, hey, its okay, you're okay," he said. "I'm gonna help, okay? We'll figure it out, but we need to move, we gotta leave, okay?" 

"Okay," he managed. The boy nodded and took Stiles' hand again, dragging him through the yard. 

They're in the middle of town then, and Stiles knows it, but he can't place it. He shakes in the boy's grasp. Something was keeping him from remembering anything. 

"Just a little further," the boy said, tugging Stiles further. "There's a gas station up ahead, we can use their phone."

"You're covered in blood," Stiles reminded him shakily. They make it to the gas station. The boy pulls them to a shaded part of the building, pressing them to the wall and looking at Stiles. 

He looks so familiar, and Stiles knows he knows him, he just can't place him. It was like trying to remember some faceless man in a dream. 

"Give me your shirt," the boy said. Stiles glances down before peeling off his flannel shirt and handing it over. 

The boy pulls it on over his bloodied shirt, buttoning it up before grabbing Stiles' hand again and leading him inside. 

The lighting hurts Stiles' eyes. He blinks against it, lets the boy lead him to the counter. 

"Can I barrow your phone?" 

The girl behind the counter nodded and handed the boy a land line. Stiles let him pull him to the side and watched him dial a number. 

Stiles could hear it ringing, and then the call connected. The boy visibly relaxed. 

"Mom," was all he said before tears welled in his eyes. Stiles could hear frantic talking on the other end, and he stepped closer to the boy, feeling his own eyes begin to sting. 

"We're okay," the boy finally managed. "We're in town."

Stiles looked around the store, making sure no one was looking at them too closely. His mind still felt like mush. Like it was locked behind a door, and Stiles didn't have the key to open it. 

"Okay," the boy continued. "We're not far from there."

Stiles turned back to the boy. the boy he knew. He knew him, but he couldnt remember. It made Stiles want to cry. Something else made him want to cry too, but he couldnt remember that either. 

"Okay, we will. Okay, bye."

The boy gave the phone back to the server girl before taking Stiles back outside. They avoid street lights. 

"We're going to Deaton's," the boy said, grasping Stiles by the shoulders and looking him in the eye. "Its three blocks away."

"Okay," Stiles nodded. 

"I know you're confused," the boy continued. "I promise we're going to figure it out."

"I know you," he tells the boy. He needs the boy to know that Stiles knows him. "I just- I can't remember."

The boy pulls Stiles into his chest and Stiles hugs him tightly, fighting his panic. 

"I'm Derek," the boy said, and Stiles nodded, hugging him tight. He remembered. 

"You're my brother," Stiles confirmed. Derek pulled away, smiling with all his teeth. He pushed their foreheads together and Stiles sagged a bit. He knew Derek. It was all he knew, and he clung to him, held on to all he knew about Derek like a lifeline. 

"We have to go now." 

Stiles took a breath, grabbed Derek's hand and nodded. They ran for Deaton's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Stiles is mentally tortured by a mentalist and as a result, Stiles forgets a lot. Kind of like amnesia. 
> 
> Next chapter will be set at Deaton's office, where we figure out why Stiles can't remember anything! Don't worry guys, the memory loss is temporary! 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think! I think Chris is gonna be spared the wrath of Stiles and Peter. He's just too nice a character. Possibly the only character in the show that got such a wonderful arch (aside from Peter, Derek and Stiles)


	48. Chapter 48

Derek banged his palm on the glass door frantically with his free hand. Stiles looked behind them, heartbeat racing. He didnt like being out in the open like they were. 

When he turned back, he saw a bald black man fast walking to the door. He unlocked it and ushered the two in. 

"Your mother called," the man said. Deaton. "Your uncle is on his way."

Derek nodded. They rushed to the back of the clinic, away from the glass door. 

"Are either of you hurt?"

"Something happened with Stiles," Derek said. Stiles didnt like how Deaton focused on him. He looked too much like a doctor. "There was a mentalist, he got in Stiles' head."

"Lets take a look," Deaton said. 

Stiles sat down on an exam table, the cold metal seeping through his jeans. Stiles was looking at an age chart for dogs and cats, hung up on the wall right next to an obesity chart. 

"Alright, Stiles. We're just going to run some tests, see what that mentalist did."

"He can't remember anything," Derek supplied. Stiles let his feet dangle from the table. Deaton was pulling a drawer out from his desk, carrying the whole thing over to the table. 

"I remember you," Stiles said, looking at Derek. The werewolf smiled, but he was worried. He turned back to Deaton, and Stiles glanced down at the herbs and branches in the drawer. 

"Are you a druid?" Stiles asked when Deaton pulled out a bottle of what looked like oregano. 

"I am," Deaton said.

Stiles glanced down at his hands. There were bangles around his wrists. He couldn't feel the comforting heaviness of magic in his center, and it made Stiles anxious. 

"None of these tests are invasive," Deaton promised. "Its just to help me figure out whats wrong, and see if I can help."

"Okay," Stiles said softly. 

*-*

Peter was opening the door to his car before he'd shut off the engine. It was dark out, and he glanced around before rushing for the front door of the clinic. 

Derek opened the door for him and Peter was hit with the smell of pain and blood. His eyes flashed blue and he growled low, stepping inside and taking Derek by the shoulders to look him over. 

"I'm okay," Derek said, eyes watering. Peter pulled him into a hug, crushing the teenager against him. 

"What happened?" Peter demanded. Derek's breath hitched in a silent sob, his fingers creasing the back of Peter's shirt. "After the phone call, tell me what happened."

"They had a mentalist," Derek said, pulling back. "He- he did something to Stiles, disoriented him or something. I had to go with him, I couldn't run-" a shuddering inhale cut him off. 

"No, that was good," Peter assured. "You two stuck together, that's good."

Derek sniffed. "Kate, she wanted to know about the pack, but we wouldn't say anything. So she got the mentalist to get into Stiles' head."

Derek was crying again. Peter felt his heart lurch. He wanted to see Stiles, wanted to make sure he was okay and hold him. But he kept himself in place, holding Derek while the boy cried. 

"He was in so much pain," Derek cried. "And I couldn't do anything."

"Is he okay?" Peter almost didn't want to hear the answer. 

"Yeah," Derek nodded. "Sort of. One of the hunters let us go. Said the alphas were back."

"Shit."

"Uncle Peter," Derek said, gripping Peter's arm and tugging a bit. "Stiles doesn't remember anything."

Peter felt his blood run cold, and he stilled, breath stopping for just a moment, and then he whined and stepped away from Derek. 

Derek followed him into the back room, where he knew his boy was. 

Stiles was sitting on the table reserved for animal check ups, and Deaton was shining a light into his eyes. 

At the sudden intrusion, Stiles and Deaton both looked over, Stiles' eyes red-rimmed and wide. Stiles looked from Derek to Peter, but there was no recognition in his eyes. 

It made Peter's chest constrict, and his feet stood frozen to the floor. 

"Stiles," Derek spoke, voice sounding small. Stiles tore his eyes away from Peter to look at the teenager. Peter swallowed thickly. "Its Peter."

Stiles blinked, a small frown pulling at his lips, and then he turned back to Peter, and his lower lip quivered. 

"Peter," Stiles choked, a wave of tears and recognition in wake of the word. Peter unstuck his feet and rushed forward, catching Stiles before he could jump off the table. 

"Shh, its okay," Peter said, tucking his face into Stiles' shoulder and breathing him in. "You're okay."

"Peter," Stiles' voice hitched. Peter looked over at Deaton from above Stiles' head, silently demanding answers. 

"The mentalist didnt do anything," he said. Stiles pulled away a bit, still sniffling, to look at Deaton. 

"He can't remember anything," Peter informed him. "Obviously he did something."

"He may have tried, but Stiles not remembering wasnt caused by outside magic."

"What do you mean?" Stiles asked, voice brittle. 

"Its a defense mechanism," Deaton said. "The mentalist was in your head, searching for something. Your magic protected you by locking your mind."

"Will it go away?" Stiles asked. Peter refused to let him go, and Stiles seemed more than happy with it, seeing as his arms refused to loosen around Peter's middle. 

"Given time," Deaton nodded. "You already remembered Derek and Peter."

Stiles nodded, tucking the side of his face into Peter's neck. Peter rumbled soothingly, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

"I might be able to take those manacles off as well," Deaton continued. Peter pulled back, grabbing Stiles' wrists and bringing them up so he could see them. 

The cuffs were gold plated, but he could tell they were made of iron. Runes and sigils were carved into the sides. 

"What do they do?" Derek asked, stepping closer. 

"Magical dampeners," Deaton informed. Peter let go of one of Stiles' wrists, cupping Stiles' jaw and forcing the teenager to look up at him. 

"You're okay?"

Stiles nodded, leaning into his palm. Peter kissed his lips, their noses pressing against each other. Stiles pushed into the kiss, then turned his head, hooking his chin over Peter's shoulder. 

Deaton got the bangles off, and Stiles seemed to fill out more, a little color coming back to his skin. Stiles clapped his hands together once, sparks spraying from the center of his joined hands.

When he pulled his hands away, the sparks turned into electricity, zipping between his hands and growing with the distance between his palms. 

The electricity sizzled out with the flex of his fingers. He sagged in relief. 

"You guys can stay here if you need," Deaton said. "Tonight isn't safe for anyone."

Peter nodded, taking in the two teenagers. Derek still smelled like blood, but he couldn't smell wolfsbane. They needed pack. 

"We're going to go home," Peter said. Both teenagers seemed to sag further in exhaustion and relief in equal parts. Deaton nodded once, and lead the three of them to the front door. 

It took twenty minutes to get to the preserve. All three of them kept their eyes to the road, the side of the street, in the woods, in case hunters or the alphas showed up. 

Peter pulled into the garage instead of parking in the driveway, shutting the door before any of them got out of the car. 

The garage door to the house swung open and Talia rushed out, collecting Derek into her chest. Peter grabbed Stiles, walking him into the house and sitting with him in the living room.

"You're okay, sweetheart," Peter rumbled, holding Stiles tight. Stiles nodded, burying himself into Peter's side and shuddering. The rest of the pack filed in, along with Derek and Talia. 

"Tell us what happened," Talia demanded, sounding angry and concerned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do today is my personal day. Turns out I'm not doing anything. I might get a tattoo this weekend, but again, its probably not likely. I'm going to try and set up an appointment, see about going for a walk now that the weather is warming up. 
> 
> I've been writing for a different fic too. I think its more therapeutic than anything, and I'm not sure if I should post it. Its about Stiles, post-nogitsune, living in a cabin trying to work through some things. Peter and Chris show up, lots of growth. I think I'm writing it out of some need to just, talk about how I'm feeling, I guess. 
> 
> Anywho super depressing note, I'm sorry. I hope you like this chapter. All of the comments want Peter to kill Kate, but I'm gonna let you all in on a secret. Stiles does it first.


	49. Chapter 49

Some things came back quickly -like Peter and Derek. The pack, his spark. Other things came back much slower, like the layout of the house, or his class schedule. 

He has two days to figure it out, to unlock as much of his mind as he can, before the alphas show up. 

He's driving Derek, Laura and Cora home from school -Talia needed the car for something today so Stiles' jeep had a couple extra riders. 

"Somethings wrong," Stiles said, hands on the steering wheel tightening. Something in his gut tells him something is happening. 

"What?" Cora asked from behind him. Stiles pressed down on the gas. Whatever it is, he's felt it before, he just- he can't remember what it is. 

They skid to a halt in the driveway and tumble out of the jeep. Stiles runs up the stairs and slams into the front door. Derek is on his heels, while Laura and Cora run around the side of the house. 

The closer Stiles gets to the back door, the louder the voices get. His heart slams heavily in his chest. He flings the back door open and skids to a halt on the patio, Derek crashing into his back. 

It takes seconds for Stiles to remember Deucalion and Kali. Even the nameless bear of a werewolf. 

There's blood, there's growling. Kali has a clawed hand wrapped around Peter's neck, his toes barely touching the grass. 

The other alpha is keeping most of the pack from approaching, and in the middle of it all, Talia and Deucalion. Talia has blood on the side of her face, eyes flashing red and beta shifted. 

"The puppies are back," Kali smirked. Peter growled, kicking his legs. Stiles scowled. Kali turned her chin to Peter, knowingly before her eyes fell to Stiles specifically. 

"You're the little spark?" She practically purred. "Mated to the left hand." Her hand tightened around Peter's throat and the werewolf's growl was cut off with his air supply. 

"You're just in time," Deucalion smirked. "Now we can get this show on the road."

"You're not touching my pack," Talia growled, clawed hands ready to tear through skin. 

"No, I'm not," Deucalion agreed. He barely nodded his head, and then the bear alpha -Stiles thinks he's called Ennis- grabs Vivian by the nape of her neck, dragging her forward. 

The pack moves at once, growling and charging. They stop when Deucalion grabs Talia. Derek whines beside Stiles, taking a step forward. 

"You'll thank me for this," Deucalion said, sounding so sure as he manhandled Talia, one hand around her neck and the other holding out her wrist, clawed hand in the air. 

Stiles stumbles forward, needing to do something. He could do it. He could do something! 

"Stiles-" Stiles stops, turning wide eyes to Peter, whos face is turning red from lack of blood flow and oxygen. He's half glaring at Stiles to stay back. His breath hitches, and he turns back to Talia. 

Ennis is dragging Vivian closer to Talia's outstretched hand, the both of them fighting. He has to do something. 

Derek runs past him, leaping down the stairs and running for his mom. Stiles watches as Deucalion drops Talia, snatching Derek like a flyaway paper and slams him into the ground. 

Something in Stiles snaps. He feels his spark jump to the surface, palms heating up, skin turning boiling hot. He jumps off the steps arms reaching out, magic jolting from his finger tips and curling around Ennis and Kali. 

They drop his pack mates, and Stiles yanks. The alphas drop to their knees, and Stiles drags them to his feet. He's got tunnel vision, his magic is singing in every part of Stiles, and he lets it go further, holding the two alphas down to the ground. 

He snaps his gaze to Deucalion, flings an arm out and wraps magic around the blind man's throat, lifting him off of Derek, who coughs on his back. 

A snarl rips from Stiles' throat, and his hand clenched, he pulls his fist towards his chest, dragging Deucalion closer. 

He doesn't know anything but the alphas. Knows they hold too much power, knows they can't have it. That they hurt his pack, and Stiles feels an almost animalistic need to protect. 

"You don't get to touch what's mine," he growls. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Stiles knows that voice wasn't his own. It was gravelly, rough around the edges, two-toned with something other that send a shiver down his spine. 

It frightened the alphas, so he accepted the added voice, tightening his hold around the alpha sparks. They're mangled and ugly, a tangled web of alpha and beta alike. With death and betrayal and anger. 

Stiles curls his magic around their mangled sparks and squeezes. They shouldn't have that much spark. 

So Stiles pulls. He heard the alphas crying out like the sound of a TV playing in another room. His vision grows black, so all he can see are the three sparks. He pulls, untangling the betas from the alphas. 

His own spark caresses the battered fragile sparks of the betas, feeling their despair. Stiles lets out a broken sound, but he keeps untangling until the alpha sparks are all thats left. 

But its not enough. They shouldn't be alphas. He pulls that too, leaving the sparks small, and he pulls more. 

Stiles' spark feeds off of what he pulls, making Stiles feel stronger, making it easy to pull more. They had no right to hold any power. Stiles snarls, tightening his hold. 

"Fuck you," Stiles sneers, that extra voice making Stiles sound not like himself anymore. 

"Stiles, let them go."

Stiles tightens his hold. The alphas -former alphas- cry out. 

"Stiles, you're going to kill them!"

Hands grip Stiles' arms, yanking him to the side. Stiles blinks, looking into Peter's blue eyes. He blinks again, face smoothing out from the hateful sneer. His spark loosens, and falls back. 

Stiles shudders as the magic leaves him, and his knees buckle a little. 

"There you are," Peter breathes, and he sounds so relieved. It makes Stiles frown in confusion. He didnt go anywhere. "You're back, its alright now."

"What..." Stiles looks around. The pack look on with a mix of fear and wonder. Stiles feels his heartbeat spike when he realizes they're all looking at him.

His eyes fall on the alphas, but he can tell they're not alphas anymore. Not betas anymore either. They're nothing. 

"What the fuck have you done?" Deucalion shouts. Stiles takes a small step back, but Peter holds him still. 

But his magic is no longer threatened by them, and neither is the pack. 

"He took your sparks," Talia said, and she sounds surprised. Stiles is surprised. He blinks, mouth falling open just a little. 

Stiles knows he took. He took their alpha spark, he took their beta spark, he took the sparks of the betas they murdered. Because they didn't deserve it. Didnt deserve the power they had. 

"They're human," Victor said, eyes wide. Stiles turns to look up at Peter, who looks concerned and in awe. 

"They tried to hurt you," Stiles said softly, looking around at the pack. "I couldn't let them hurt you."

Peter yanked him into his chest, scenting him almost frantically. 

"Get them out of here," Talia orders. Deucalion, Ennis and Kali make noise, tries to fight them off, but they're human now, sirh human strength. Peter pulls Stiles into the house. The rest of the pack follow. 

"In my office," Talia ordered. Stiles and Peter step inside, and Talia shuts the door behind them. 

"I'm sorry," Stiles said once they were locked in the soundproofed room. "I didn't mean to lose control like that."

"Stiles, do you know what you did?" Talia asked. Stiles twists his fingers in his lap, anxiously bouncing his leg. He can still feel his magic singing in his veins, fed by the werewolf sparks he stole. 

"I-" Stiles chewed his lip. "I didn't want them hurting the pack anymore."

"Stiles, you did something impossible," Talia said. Stiles glanced up at her, frowning a bit. It hadn't felt impossible. Stiles knew he could do it. He had to do it. It was so easy to do. And that kind of terrified Stiles. He had been close to killing them. 

"I lost control," Stiles said, feeling his eyes burn. Peter places a hand on his shoulder. 

"You saved the pack," Peter corrected. Stiles looked up at him, swallowing thickly. "And you came back to me, like you always do."

"But-" Stiles inhales a little sharply. "But I didn't feel myself leave."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Stiles has a loss of control moment! I wanted Stiles to have a dark side, like how a Druid can turn into a Darach, which will be explained in future chapters. 
> 
> Since Stiles is a spark, his powers manifest as sparks, or light. I always picture how sparklers pop and sizzle when I write about Stiles' spark, and I've always thought hot liquid glass looked so cool, and how the outer layers of molten metal would crack and crumble when its being moulded. Idk thats how I picture Stiles' magic manifesting most of the time. With the added bonus of the lightning/electricity thing he can do. 
> 
> Also, you guys seemed to like the idea of the stetopher book so I'm uploading that today, right after I upload this chapter, so if you want you can check it out. It won't be updated as often as this book though. Maybe once a week.


	50. Chapter 50

Stiles closed himself off. From everyone. Peter understood, but he hated it. Watching Stiles hole up in the bedroom Stiles hadnt slept in since he first moved in. 

Peter was responsible for driving Kali, Deucalion and Ennis off of Hale territory, so he couldn't even stay and sooth Stiles after the incident. He knew his boy was freaking out, and Peter didn't blame him. 

He sneered to himself as he sped down the highway. Victor was with him, and in the back seat -bound and gagged- were the three former werewolves. 

Peter replayed the incident over and over during the drive -like he assumed Stiles was doing, alone in the guest room. It had shocked him to see. 

He'd seen Stiles when he held too much magic in his body. When his arms burned like melting glass. He had seen the power, the ability to destroy so easily under his skin. 

Peter had been floored then. He had never seen so much power, and it made him almost giddy, that first time. Because he knew his mate was strong, was capable and could defend himself if he needed. 

But last night, Stiles had taken on a whole other person. Peter couldn't get that voice out of his head. The two toned growl that sifted and twined so easily with Stiles' own voice. 

He'd never seen Stiles look so full of hate, so full of something so far from the Stiles Peter had known. It had terrified him. It had terrified Stiles as well. 

Stiles' arms had grown hot, turned molten red, twisting up past his elbows. His skin had seemed to crack, bright light glowing from the spaces between. Peter had never seen anything like it. 

But what had terrified Peter the most was Stiles' eyes. Those honey whiskey eyes that could look beta gold in certain light had gone pitch black, like his pupil had blown so wide that the black has covered the whites whole. 

He didn't know much about sparks -no one did- but he had a feeling that sparks and druids were not as different as he thought. 

And that made Peter even more uneasy as he drove further and further from his mate. If sparks had the ability to turn dark the way druids did, Stiles needed to know. He needed to learn better control. 

"How far do we have to drive them?" Victor grunted beside him. Peter glanced back at the once-werewolves and sighed. 

Kali looked so much different now without her always there claws and fangs. Her once alpha red eyes were now a normal boring brown. 

Deucalion no longer held that air of authority and power. He was little, small and squishable. Peter smirked, reveling in the feeling of knowing Deucalion was lost without the ability to hear and smell. 

He was much more vulnerable in his blindness now than he had ever been as a 'wolf. 

"We're dropping them off at St. NonScott," Peter said. It was a four and a half hour drive to Satomi Ito's pack. The old werewolf had agreed to take in the once-werewolves. To keep an eye on them and keep them from ever turning. 

They'd live very human lives, and die very human deaths. Satomi had promised to make sure of it. 

Peter wanted to stay home, to sooth Stiles, hold him and tell him everything was going to be okay. 

But this was Peter's job. As left hand, he was the one who drove out the threats, who took care of the problems. 

Peter didnt stop the whole drive down to Southern California. Not for gas, not for bathroom breaks or food. The sooner he got those fuckers out of his back seat, the better. And the sooner he can go back to Stiles. 

Victor and Peter spoke in low tones, low enough for the humans to hear but not understand. 

Even as humans, Peter had a problem keeping his back to them. He wanted them gone. 

When they crossed the city limit of St. NonScott, Peter let out a breath. It was a little after noon. 

He drove through the town, Victor using his phone to direct them to the Ito pack house. 

It wasnt much like Peter's own home. The Ito pack was much bigger -much older- than the Hale pack. 

They had an apartment complex, four three story buildings all full of pack. 

Peter climbed out of the car, bowing his head towards the alpha with a smile, hands clasped in front of him. 

"Hello, Alpha Ito," Peter greeted, stopping five feet from the short Asian alpha. "Thank you for allowing me onto your territory."

Satomi smiled, her cheeks puffing up, eyes crinkling at the corners, and Peter can't help the small uptick of his lip. 

"Its nice to see you again, Peter," Satomi said. "The last time I saw you, you were still wearing those awful graphic tshirts."

Peter let his shoulders relax, smiling much more freely down at his old friend. 

"I've, thankfully, grown out of them," Peter grinned. Satomi smiled at him before nodding once in greeting to Victor. The bitten beta dipped his head as well. 

"My second will take care of the three of them," Satomi said, face souring as she looked at Peter's car -or more accurately, at its passengers- before turning her eyes to Peter and Victor. "You two can come up with me. We can discuss everything over tea."

*-*

Satomi's place reflected her perfectly. Peter had never been on Ito territory, and thus was never invited in. 

Her apartment was small, but it looked lived in. A brown leather couch rested along the far wall, a red leather chair facing the balcony, a forest green ottoman and a dark mahogany coffee table in the empty space between. 

Her wallpaper was floral and beige. Everything looked vintage, and smelled it too. Peter and Victor took the brown couch, while Satomi sat down in the red chair. 

The coffee table already sported a kettle and four cups. Each werewolf took one. 

It was made from Reishi -like it always was. It smelled like compost or decomposing mulch, and tasted just as bad. 

Peter took a sip. Victor coughed, setting the cup back down. Satomi smiled knowingly, not taking offense to the beta. 

"I'd like to hear about the boy who stole the werewolf sparks from the alphas," Satomi spoke after some time. Victor glanced over at Peter curiously, waiting to hear what Peter would say. 

Most talk about Stiles was stopped immediately. Peter knew the boy was powerful, and that lead to dangerous people wanting to take or control him. 

But he trusted Satomi as much as he trusted himself, so he gave a small smile and set his cup down. "His name is Stiles."

Peter told Satomi all about his mate, leaving out tidbits here and there. He mentioned the boy being a spark, and how his magic manifested. 

"Its rare for magic to manifest as something so literal," Satomi mused, taking a sip of her tea. Peter nodded. Stiles' spark always seemed to manifest as a literal spark. It was yellows, oranges, reds and heat. Molten glass and lava brimming under the skin. 

"I may have something that might help him," Satomi said, long after the tea was cold. Peter had mentioned his concern of Stiles going dark, and even Victor had spoken up at that, mentioning how Stiles' scent had turned to ash and smoke when his eyes turned black. 

"Any help would be greatly appreciated," Peter said, smiling a bit. Satomi stood, nodded for Peter to follow, and left the living room. 

Peter lifted a hand for Victor to stay put and followed Satomi into a small study across from the door to her bedroom. 

"You were right, about Stiles having a darker side," Satomi said when the door was closed. Peter couldn't hear anything outside of the room and knew it was soundproofed. 

"In fact, all magic users have the ability to go dark," Satomi continued. "Its the difference between white and black magic."

The alpha walked over to her bookshelf, pulling out two tomes and setting them on the desk. 

"Pagans believe its the difference between selfless and selfish intentions, but its not always true."

Peter nodded. He knew it wasnt true for Stiles. He had done what he'd done because of the pack. 

"Sometimes," Satomi said, hand placed on the top book and glancing at Peter with a wisdom behind her eyes that only occurred after living a long life and seeing a great deal. 

"Magic users 'go dark' because of trauma, or strong emotion. It can happen if the user can't control it."

Satomi slid the books over to Peter. "From what you've told me, it sounds like Stiles is powerful. Maybe too powerful for a boy his age, and that can greatly effect the outcome of his spark. 

"It will be imperative that he learns control, or finds a way to dampen his spark until he's older." 

Peter picked up the tomes, reading the covers before flipping through them. He glanced up and smiled at Satomi. 

"Thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Satomi coming in with the knowledge!!! 
> 
> A lot of you guys asked if the two-tone if Stiles' voice was the nemeton speaking through him. Although I didn't even think of that and thats actually pretty fucking cool, its not the nemeton. Stiles' voice goes two-toned because of the darker side of his spark. 
> 
> And a lot of you guys really liked Anam Cara: Home! I'm really glad. Its definitely a reflection of myself in a way that my other stories aren't so its a bit anxiety-inducing to post. 
> 
> If you haven't and if you're of the spiritual type, I'd definitely read Anam Cara by John O'Donohue, its incredible!


	51. Chapter 51

Peter and Victor stayed in St. NonScott for an hour before heading back to Beacon Hills. They'd make it back close to nine that night. 

Peter had a bag with the tomes for Stiles and a bag of Reishi powder for Talia in the now vacant back seat. They stopped for gas before leaving the city, and stopped again halfway up to grab food. 

Peter called Talia to inform her of Satomi's plan for the once-'wolves, and gave a rough time they'd be back. 

"How's Stiles?" Peter asked towards the end of the conversation. 

"He hasn't come out of his room all day," Talia sighed, sounding like a worrying mother. "He's not speaking, hasn't really moved since you left."

Peter clenched his jaw to keep his fangs from dropping. This was why he didn't want to leave. 

"I'll be home as soon as I can," he promised. 

*-*

Peter carried the tomes upstairs when he got home after handing Talia the Reishi powder. Instead of going into their bedroom, Peter stopped outside of the door across the hall and knocked. 

Stiles didnt answer, but Peter could hear his heart beating and the steady breaths. He twisted the handle, pulling the door open and sighing. 

Stiles was hidden under a pile of blankets, and didn't come out when the door opened. Peter shut it behind him and walked over to the edge of the bed, sitting the tomes down on the dusty nightstand. 

He pulled the blankets down, exposing Stiles before sitting down and placing a hand on his chest. 

Stiles blinked up at the ceiling, sighing in a resigned way before turning to look at Peter. 

"You going to talk to me, sweetheart?" Peter asked softly. Stiles' heartbeat kicks up under Peter's palm, his scent souring. 

"No," Stiles said, turning his eyes away. Peter kept his hand on Stiles' chest to keep the boy from rolling over. 

"Talia said you've been hiding in here all day," Peter said, raising an eyebrow at his mate. Stiles rolled over, and this time, Peter let him. Instead of rolling to face away from Peter, Stiles curled around Peter a bit, knees bent around Peter's seat and head tucked towards his chest. 

"Everyone's afraid of me," Stiles said softly, almost a whisper. Peter frowned at that, his hand resting on Stiles' side. 

"What do you mean?"

Stiles sighed and rolled his eyes, like explaining it to Peter was like telling him the sky was blue. 

"All last night -after- no one touched me," Stiles said. "They kept this, space around me, like they're all worried I'm going to do the same thing to them."

Peter had noticed the night before. But the pack had been worried about Stiles. Were worried their touch wouldn't be accepted in Stiles' state of mind. 

Hearing how Stiles perceived it, Peter decided he would be having a talk with his pack. 

"This morning, after you and Victor left, whenever I came into the room the talking stopped," Stiles continued, tears welling up in his eyes. 

Peter ran his hand over Stiles' side, hoping it'd comfort the boy. "Derek and Laura keep looking at me like I'm seconds away from detonating. I couldn't handle it, so I've been up here all day."

Peter sighed and hefted Stiles out of his fetal pose, hugging him tightly. Stiles stiffened, his hands hovering above Peter's shoulder blades, like he was afraid to touch him. 

"You lost control," Peter said softly. "It happens to everyone."

Stiles said nothing, his mouth planted firmly into Peter's shoulder, cheek smooshed into Peter's neck. 

"This is all new for everyone," Peter continued. "You're much more powerful than either of us thought, and yes, you have the potential to be dangerous, but you're not."

"I almost killed them," Stiles countered weakly. "I killed two people, and I almost killed three more."

"In self-defense," Peter said. Stiles pulled away from him enough to glare at him. 

"I wasn't defending myself when I did it, Peter," he bit out. 

"You were defending pack," Peter nodded. "You did what you had to do to protect your pack, and its something every one of us would do for you too."

Stiles looked down at his lap, where his hands were twisting nervously. 

"Give them a little time," Peter said softly. "Let them adjust. They'll come around."

Peter would make them come around if need be. He'd talk to Talia, Derek and Laura first, and hopefully seeing them treat Stiles normal will get the rest of the pack to follow along. 

It was obvious Stiles did not do well with space in the aftermath of something like this. What he needed was touch, reassurance and understanding. Something Peter was more than willing to give, and more than willing to explain to the pack. 

"I got you something," Peter said finally. Stiles' eyebrows furrowed and he glanced up in confusion. 

"What?"

Peter leaned forward, grabbing the two tomes and setting them on his lap, facing Stiles. 

"Alpha Ito gave them to you," he said. "Yo help with your spark, maybe help you with control."

Stiles took the first book, dragging it onto his own lap before flipping it open. Peter waited patiently as his boy flipped through the pages, skimming over everything before slapping it closed and grabbing for the second one. 

Once finished, he glanced up at Peter, and the first half tilt of his mouth Peter'd seen since last night graced his lips. 

"Thank you," he said softly, clutching the books like a lifeline. They might as well be. Peter nodded and leaned forward a bit, palms on either side of Stiles' thighs. 

"Now, do I get a kiss, or are my lips going to be lonely tonight?"

Stiles rolled his eyes, but grinned all the same. He leaned forward and kissed Peter softly. Peter smiled against his mouth, lifting his hands to grab at his jaw, pulling the boy in closer and deepening the kiss. 

When they finally pulled away -because Stiles couldnt stiffle the yawn- Peter cocked an eyebrow. 

"You going to come keep me warm tonight too?" 

Stiles gave a small nod. Peter picked up the books and stood, making his way to the door with Stiles on his heels. 

They changed into night clothes, brushed their teeth and went to the bathroom before crawling into bed. Peter could already see Stiles coming back to himself, and he tucked the boy into his chest wirh a small smile on his face.

He'd talk to Talia and the pups in the morning and get everything squared away. "You know I love you?" Peter asked softly. He felt Stiles smile against his shoulder, body curling towards Peter. 

"I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I'm kind of a little obsessed with Stiles and Peter's relationship. Its growing in all the right places!! Plus, future chapters that you guys haven't read yet I mean come on they're endgame!
> 
> Tell me what you guys think!!


	52. Chapter 52

Peter woke up slowly, the morning sun warming the blankets over his legs. The bed beside him was empty, but Peter could hear Stiles' heartbeat, the scratches of pencil on paper, and blinked his eyes open. 

He thought Stiles would be taking notes on the tomes Satomi had lent him, but Peter was pleasantly surprised to see a sketchbook in Stiles' hands, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. 

He was sitting in the middle of the bed cross legged, facing Peter, and the werewolf stretched his legs out a little, alerting his boy that Peter was awake. 

"I haven't seen you draw in a while," he said, voice deep and raspy from sleep. 

"Don't move," Stiles ordered, taking his eyes off the page just long enough to make sure Peter had kept his place before dragging the pencil across the paper. 

"How long have you been up?"

Stiles hummed, rubbing his pinky into the paper before glancing up at the clock on the nightstand. 

"Two hours," he said. Peter hummed, and laid in silence while Stiles drew. He watched all of Stiles' micro-expressions as he tried to match detail for detail, erased pieces and shaded, smudged and shadowed. 

Stiles looked down at the drawing, then looked up at Peter, eyes squinting, taking in everything before looking back down at the sketch. 

"Am I allowed to see it?" Peter asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"Its not good," Stiles sighed, self-deprecating. Peter huffed and pushed himself to sit up, hooking a finger over the top of the sketchpad and pulling it down. 

Stiles let him, and kept those honey whiskey eyes trained on Peter while he took in the drawing. 

Stiles had gotten better over the years. Peter had been impressed with his skill when Stiles had been thirteen, but now, Peter couldn't get over how good he was. The intricate lines, the attention to detail. 

"'Not good' my ass," Peter snorted, rolling his eyes. It was of Peter, sleeping in a throw of pillows and blankets, his hair a tangled mess of bedhead against the fabric under his head, eyes closed and lashes fanning out over his cheeks. His lips were slightly parted, a hand half curled in a relaxed state by his head. 

"Somethings off with it still," Stiles protested. 

"Sweetheart, its amazing," Peter smiled. He pulled Stiles into a kiss by the front of his shirt, setting the sketchbook out of the way and climbing onto his knees. 

Stiles was forced backwards as Peter crawled forward, continuing to kiss his boy even as Stiles dropped to his back. 

Peter kept his hands on either side of Stiles' head, knees planted on the mattress. Stiles' legs were spread, cradling Peter's hips, thighs pressing into Peter's. 

Stiles' hands moved tentatively over Peter, up his arms to his shoulders, holding his neck before sliding down his chest over his shirt. Peter growled into his mouth, dropping his hips to grind against Stiles' pelvis. 

Stiles' hands spasmed and he let out a small noise that Peter ate up. He pulled back and tilted Stiels' chin up with his nose before biting, sucking and licking at Stiles' neck. 

Stiles whimpered, hips rolling up to meet Peter's and hands gripping the fabric of Peter's night shirt. 

Peter left three dark and angry bruises into Stiles' neck, before he leaned back and grabbed the hem of his shirt. 

"God, I want to do filthy things with you," he growled, eyes flashing. Stiles' breath hitched, heart stuttering as Peter yanked his shirt off. 

"Okay," Stiles nodded, lips already kiss red. Peter dropped his head, nipping at the skin of Stiles' chest, just under his collar bone. 

Stiles' back arched up, pushing his chest into Peter's mouth. Peter sucked and bit bruises into his delicate pale skin from his shoulders down to his belly. 

Stiles writhed under him, whimpering and whining and moaning and gasping. It made Peter work all the more harder to pull those noises out. 

"Peter, I'm- you gotta stop or I'm gonna jizz in my pants."

Peter pulled off of the skin to the right of Stiles' belly button with a suctioned pop, looking at Stiles. His torso was covered in the red blotchy bruises Peter knew would darken with time, all spit slick and shining in the morning light. 

"Thats what I'm aiming for, sweetheart," he grinned. Stiles' eyes widened, his breath hitching. 

"Holy fuck," Stiles whined. Peter dropped his head again, moving down further. He hooked his thumbs into the elastic band of his boxers and sleep pants, pulling them down just enough to expose the light brown patch of public hair, and brought his mouth down to the sensitive skin there. 

Stiles cursed, voice raising an octave as Peter sucked a bruise into the skin of his hip. Fingers twisted into Peter's hair desperately, the legs under him tensing and shifting with every swipe of Peter's tongue, every suck and bite, until Stiles' whole body was alight with pleasure. 

"Peter!"

Peter dropped a hand over Stiles' cock, adding just enough pressure and sucking hard on the already forming bruise as Stiles came, body tensing and mouth dropped open on a mewl.

Peter felt his cock twitch with each pulse of his orgasm, could feel the heat and wet seeping through his clothes, and he mouthed at the fabric, until Stiles settled back into the bed, breathing hard. 

Peter pulled the rest of Stiles' clothes off, dropping them off the side of the bed before crawling up his pliant form and leaning down to kiss him softly. 

Stiles kissed back, looping his arms around Peter's neck and opening his mouth for Peter's tongue. 

"Can I do you now?" Stiles asked, breaking the kiss. Peter smirked, nosing Stiles' nose before shaking his head. 

"I'm not done with you yet, sweetheart." 

Stiles frowned in confusion, head tilting ever so slightly on the pillow. It was such a 'wolf gesture, it made Peter smile. 

"I already came though," he said, still the blushing virgin. 

Peter leaned forward, nipping Stiles' earlobe gently and reveling in the shiver it caused. "You can cum more than once sweetheart."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write more Stiles drawing, because we've kinda veered away from that as the story progresses. Plus, I wanted some cutsie scenes between the two and having Stiles draw Peter sleeping is ultimate cute! Let me know what you guys think!


	53. Chapter 53

Stiles let Peter move him around to his liking, even as Stiles' heart beat wildly in nervousness. Peter used soft guiding hands to manipulate Stiles onto his knees, gently pressed into the spot between his shoulder blades to get Stiles onto his hands. 

Stiles' breathing was labored. Peter knew he was nervous being laid out so exposed, so he kissed Stiles' spine, ran soothing hands over his bare skin, hushed calming words of praise that pulled shivers from Stiles. 

"Drop to your elbows for me, sweetheart."

Stiles swallowed thickly, but slowly did as he was told, presenting his pert pale ass to Peter. 

Stiles clutched the pillow under him tightly, breath coming out in stutters as Peter looked over him, hands never stopping their worshipping roaming of his pale skin. 

"You're perfect," Peter hummed. Stiles blushed, dropping his face into the fold of his arms, heartbeat racing. 

Peter leaned forward, placing his mouth at Stiles' tailbone. Stiles snapped his head up, eyes wide as he looked back at Peter. 

Peter dropped his hands to the back of Stiles' knees, squeezing softly before pulling his mouth away. 

"You know about the stop light system?" Peter asked softly. Stiles shook his head, lower lip sucked into his mouth. Peter gave him a reassuring smile. 

"Green for go, yellow for slow down, red for stop," Peter said. "If this is too much, you tell me and I'll stop."

Stiles swallowed again before giving a small nod. Peter nodded back before kissing Stiles' lower back, right between the dimples. 

Stiles dropped his head back down into the pillow, and Peter shifted his hands, running them up the back of Stiles' thighs, following the curve of his ass and squeezing. 

Stiles' breath hitched. Peter brought his mouth down, biting softly at the skin near his asshole and smirking at Stiles' keening noise, the way the muscles of his hole quivered. 

"What color are you, sweetheart?" Peter asked, scraping teeth against the soft sensitive skin. 

"Green," Stiles managed, voice tight. Peter smirked, moving in and licking Stiles' hole with the flat of his tongue. 

Stiles yelped in surprise, whole body jerking. He lifted his head, wide eyes looking over his shoulder at Peter. 

Peter smirked, locking eyes with his mate before doing it again. Stiles' pupils dilated and he dropped back down with a whiny groan. 

Peter continued lapping at Stiles' fluttering hole before pointing his tongue and pressing in. Stiles body tensed, his breath catching in his throat as Peter slipped into the tightness of him. 

Peter licked at him, shoved his tongue inside of him, sucked at him. Stiles panted, whined, mewled and whimpered. It only made Peter work harder, wanting to hear all the noises Stiles had to offer. 

He pushed a finger in beside his tongue and Stiles' back dipped, his chest dropping into the mattress and his ass curving up into Peter's mouth. 

"Peter-" Stiles gasped, a shiver running down his spine. Peter smirked against him, pumping his finger in and out of Stiles' hole while he licked and sucked.

Stiles' cock leaked onto the sheets between his knees, his muscles quivering in an effort to keep himself from going boneless. Peter added a second finger, soothing the burn-stretch with his tongue. 

"Pete-Peter!" Stiles croaked, voice muffled by the pillow. Peter pumped his fingers in and out, curling and scissoring them in the warm wet of Stiles. 

"You make such pretty noises," Peter growled against him. Stiles shuddered, pressing back into him. 

Stiles tentatively rocked back into Peter's touch, gasping softly into the pillow. There was a growing puddle of wet under the boy, the heady scent of pre-cum and arousal heavy in their bedroom. 

"Please, Peter -ahn!- pl-please."

Peter's eyes flashed, a deep growl pulling from his chest, and he bit down onto Stiles' cheek, pulling a shout from Stiles, thighs quivering and breaths coming out in short sobs. 

Then Peter was pulling back completely, watching as Stiles' hole closed around nothing. Stiles whined, back arching further, silently begging. 

"Roll over," Peter demanded, voice gone rough and low with want. Stiles shivered, but did as he was told. 

Once on his back, Peter crawled up, nosing at the bruises on Stiles' neck, dragging his tongue over the sensitive skin before slotting down between his legs. 

Stiles' hands roamed across Peter's shoulders, dipping low to grab the hem of his shirt. Peter lifted up, allowing Stiles to pull it off. 

"I want to kiss you," Stiles mewled, tugging at Peter's bare shoulders. 

Peter huffed, tucking his face back into Stiles' neck, his hand finding Stiles' asshole and pressing two fingers in easily. Stiles moaned into his ear, sending a shiver down Peter's back. 

"I just had my mouth all over you, sweetheart," Peter reminded him softly, nipping at the shell of his ear while he pumped his fingers into his boy. 

"Don't care," Stiles gasped, shoving at Peter's shoulders. "I don't care, Peter, please. I wanna kiss you."

Peter pulled away to look down at him in surprise, but it didn't last long. Stiles grabbed the sides of his face and pulled him in, lifting his head off the pillow and kissing him frantically. 

Peter growled, diving into his mouth and pushing him down into the mattress. 

"Get my pants down," Peter breathed against Stiles' mouth. Stiles' hands grabbed the elastic of his sweats and boxers and tugged them down to halfway down Peter's thighs. 

"Take us both in your hands, sweetheart."

Stiles nodded, hands fumbling just a little. Peter moved in closer, pushing his fingers in deeper and pulling a cry from Stiles. 

He wrapped long dexterous fingers around their cocks and started pumping. Stiles' dick was dwarfed in comparison, and Peter watched as Stiles' cockhead disappeared with each upstroke. 

"M'not gonna- gonna last if you -ah!- if you do that," Stiles whimpered, Peter's fingers matching the pace Stiles set. 

Peter didnt let up, feeling himself close to the edge too. It was easy to spot when Stiles was close -aside from the smell- and Peter rolled his hips forward, giving the boy more friction. 

"Go ahead, baby," Peter growled, feeling his balls tighten. He curled his fingers inside Stiles before pulling down. 

Stiles yelped, whole body tensing and cum coating his stomach and hand. Peter rocked against him through his orgasm, into his lax grip. 

He pulled his hand from Stiles, holding himself up while he grabbed his cock. 

Stiles' eyes were hooded, still panting as Peter came hard over top of him, mixing their seed with a growled groan. 

Stiles' hands scrambled against Peter's neck, yanking him down to kiss him langourously. Peter smiled into the kiss, breathing deeply. The smell of their mixed scents was heady and intoxicating. 

Peter pulled back, sitting on his haunches. Stiles' legs were spread wide, drapped over Peter's thighs, his arms laid out over the mattress. Peter took him in, covered in their cum, looking thoroughly fucked out. 

Peter reached forward, running a finger through the cum cooling on Stiles' stomach, mixing it and spreading it onto Stiles' skin. 

"You smell like us," Peter hummed, smirking down at Stiles, who pinked. He watched silently as Peter palmed the puddle of cum on his stomach, dragging it over Stiles' soft cock, coating him in it. 

Stiles shivered, eyes dilated and cock giving a valiant little jerk. "I want you to smell like this all the time," Peter confessed almost needily. 

"Yeah," Stiles breathed, nodding quick. Peter smirked, running two fingers through the mess of his belly again before moving further down, past Stiles' taint and to his hole. 

Stiles' breath hitched as Peter pushed their combined cum into him, shivering and letting his legs fall further apart. 

Peter took more onto his fingers before pumping into Stiles' ass. 

"Peter," Stiles whimpered. Peter removed his fingers and leaned forward to kiss him quiet. 

He pulled back and dropped to his stomach, licking up the last little bit of cum, humming at the taste. Stiles wiggled under him, grabbing Peter by the jaw and hauling him up for a kiss. 

Peter let his mouth open, let Stiles chase their cum down his throat, kissed back with fervor. 

Peter dropped to the side, tugging Stiles over so he was laying half on the werewolf and sighed happily. Stiles had an arm and a leg across him, chin pressing into Peter's chest and smelling tired and content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just a slight heads up, the fire will happen in either chapter 60 or 61! I'm writing 59 right now and then we should be finished at 64 or 65! 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think! Writing Peter and Stiles is my absolute favorite, especially when Peter gets all scent marky and possessive 😍


	54. Chapter 54

Stiles winced a bit at the tacky feeling as he shifted. He had cum all over his crotch and buried in his ass still. He shifted a bit before lifting his head. 

"I'm all gross now," he nearly whined. Peter had the gall to look smug, a smirk pulling at his mouth. 

"You're perfect, baby," Peter rumbled. Stiles huffed, but untangled himself from Peter, making a face at the feeling of dried gummy cum making everything want to stick together. 

"I'm taking a shower," he grumbled. He heard Peter chuckle to himself as Stiles waddled into the bathroom. He didnt even know how to clean the cum out of his ass, but he got the shower running. 

He grabbed a towel and a wash rag while he waited for the water to warm up, since he was already naked. Then he stepped in and grabbed the soap. He decided to wash everything, starting with his hair. 

He washed his cock and balls, his stomach and his thighs too, and got a good long look at the bruises littering his skin. 

He had one on his collar bone, one under his nipple, a couple down his stomach, one on his hip, and partially hidden in the bush of his pubic hair. Pressing on them left them with a dull ache, and he knew he had at least two on hid neck too. 

While twisting back, Stiles spotted two more on his ass, and he blushed crimson. He didnt know how to clean inside, and after contorting himself like a pretzel, Stiles finally decided to just try and finger the cum out. 

He huffed, using one hand to pull his cheek, and reached back with his other hand. His fingers weren't as thick as Peter's had been, but the feeling was still foreign. 

Stiles turned so his ass faced the showerhead, sticking his fingers inside of himself. 

"Well, this is a nice sight to walk in on."

Stiles jumped, turning to see Peter on the other side of the glass. He huffed, pulling his hands from his ass. 

"I can't get it out," Stiles grunted. "I don't know how."

Peter chuckled, opening the glass door and stepping inside. He crowded up to Stiles, wrapping arms around him, bare skin slick with water. 

"You could just leave it in," Peter suggested, smirking at Stiles, who rolled his eyes. 

"Yeah, and then the pack can smell it," Stiles grunted. "Plus its all sticky now, and it feels weird."

"Sweetheart, they're going to smell us on you no matter how much soap you use," he smirked. Stiles blinked, mouth falling open. "Scent marking doesn't go away."

Stiles blushed and ducked his head, grumbling. He knew that already. The brush of a hand along the neck -or in Peter's case, nuzzling his neck- left behind the scent of the werewolf on skin for days on end. 

"They're gonna know we fucked?" Stiles asked, humiliation and embarrassment making his voice raise an octave. Peter chuckled, running his hands down Stiles' water slick skin to cup his ass. 

"They already know we fucked," Peter said. Stiles' eyes widened and he lifted his head. "You're not very quiet, Stiles."

"Oh, my God!"

*-*

Summer passes, and it's quiet. Stiles hasn't yet been able to fully relax. The alphas are no longer a problem, but they still have hunters on their back. 

Just because they've been quiet, doesn't mean they're not still out for Hale blood. 

Stiles and Derek are starting senior year in the fall. Cora's going to be in middle school, and Laura is taking a gap year before college to start her training. 

She's going to be alpha one day. 

The pack returns to normal. Stiles is one hundred percent sure that Peter's to thank for it. 

Stiles reads a lot over the summer. Reads from the books Satomi Ito had loaned him. He was learning a lot about what he was, how to control himself. 

He learned about the darker side of being a spark. It was something everyone with a spark struggled with, from the tiny human sparks all the way to a Stiles spark. 

"There's two wolves inside all of us," Peter had said one night, after Stiles had a momentary breakdown over hearing about the darker part of him that would never truly go away. 

"One is full of anger and greed and resentment, and all things wrong, and the other is full of peace, love, kindness and empathy. Neither one is fully good or evil -I don't think anything is that black and white."

Stiles had huffed at that. Peter had always stressed the importance of not looking at everything as strictly good and bad. There was too much grey. 

But Peter had smiled at him, tucked him into his side as they laid down in bed, and said softly. "The wolf that wins is the one you feed."

"Figures you'd make them wolves," Stiles had said, but the story stuck. 

So, Stiles was learning. And he was practicing. But he was also preparing. The hunters had backed off because of the alphas, and it wouldn't take them long to realize they were out of the picture. 

And with the matriarch still living in Beacon Hills -with her hunter husband and huntress daughter and that good for nothing Kate- Stiles couldnt be too careful. 

"You apply to any colleges yet?" Boyd asked at lunch. Their group of friends had the same lunch period this year, and had commandeered a lunch table outside. Boyd, Erica, Issac, Derek and Stiles. 

"I applied to UCLA," Issac said softly, stabbing at his chicken patty with a plastic fork. 

"Me too," Erica grinned. 

Stiles still worried about those two. About Erica's epilepsy and Issac's dad, but there wasn't much he could do but be there for them. Be there for Issac until he got the courage to reach out. 

"I applied to the community college," Boyd said. "Think I wanna stay close to home. What about you two?"

Stiles shrugged a shoulder. 

"I'm not smart enough for college," Derek huffed. "Plus, I got a job already lined up. No need to get a degree for something I won't use."

"Oh, you want to be a ranger?" Erica asked, sounding excited. 

"Yeah," Derek shrugged. "The woods are nice. I'm basically gonna get paid to traips around and talk to deer."

"Like a little Disney princess," Boyd smirked. Stiles couldnt help laughing at that, picturing Derek in a pink dress with a ranger badge, scowling at deer while birds flew over his head. 

"Aren't you afraid of the wolves?" Issac asked. Stiles raised an eyebrow at Derek, smirking into his food. 

Derek just shrugged. "People are more afraid of the wolves than they need to be," he said. "I'm not saying go try and pet one, or purposefully try to find one, but they're not gonna attack you if you run into them. If anything, they'll just run away."

"What about you, Stiles?" Erica asked, changing the subject back to college. "You've got to be the smartest person in school. Whered you apply?"

"Didn't," Stiles grunted, spearing a head of soggy broccoli on his fork. "Not my thing."

"What? What do you mean 'not your thing'? College is like, every nerd's dream, isn't it?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "No, Erica," he huffed. "I just, I don't want to go to college. Its not something I've ever been interested in. I like to learn, and I'm good at school, but I hate the structure of school."

Derek had already heard Stiles' rants about school, so he dropped his head, focusing on finishing his food. 

"I want to learn about what I want to learn about. I don't want someone else structuring my learning experience."

"College is different," Boyd said. "You can pick your own classes. Learn what you want."

Stiles just shook his head. "Even if I did go to college, no university is gonna teach what I wanna learn anyway."

"Well, its still the beginning of senior year," Erica sighed. "Maybe you'll change your mind."

"Yeah, maybe," Stiles agreed placatingly. 

"I can't wait to get the fuck out of here," Issac grunted. "Spend four years in a dorm room, live on my own. Sounds amazing."

"Oh, yeah, dorm rooms are the highlight of the college experience," Erica grinned, rolling her eyes. Stiles and Derek were the only ones who really knew why Issac wanted to go off to college so badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I have such a thing for cum play, but I do so Peter has to too! 
> 
> Let me know what you think! I know you all want Stiles to help with Issac and Erica, and he will, just not right now. Talia was right about them having too many problems.


	55. Chapter 55

"Happy birthday," Stiles rasps early in the morning. Its October 27th already, and Peter's turning twenty-six. 

He blinks his eyes open against the morning light filtering in through the blinds, and rolls over to see Peter also blinking himself awake. 

He smiles over at Stiles, eyes heavy-lidded with sleep. Stiles rolls over so he's on top of the werewolf and places a kiss to his pillow soft lips. 

"Good morning, baby," Peter hums against his mouth. Stiles pulls away, grinning at him before tucking his face into Peter's neck. 

He's gotten a lot better at sex over the summer. He's more confident in the way his mouth works over Peter's skin. He knows where Peter likes being kissed, what he likes Stiles do to when Stiles has Peter's cock in his mouth. 

So, he scrapes teeth along Peter's jugular. Up, up, up to nose at his ear before licking at the hinge of his jaw. Peter hums, hands finding Stiles' sides and squeezing him. 

Stiles moves down to his collar bones, his fingers working Peter's shirt up to his armpits before kissing the spot on his chest between his pecks. 

"This your birthday present to me?" Peter asked, voice rough. Stiles can't help smiling against his chest before moving down further, getting to the dip where his sternum ends and his belly begins. 

"One of them," Stiles confesses. He can't count how many times Peter had woken Stiles up with a blow job or with kisses, or soft touches. Hes wanted to return the favor for a while, and today was perfect. 

Stiles leaves a trail of wet spots down Peter's torso from kissing and licking and biting. He doesn't have to be soft with Peter -he's noticed Peter likes it more rough anyway- so he doesn't apologize when he bits a little too hard, yanking a hitched breath from Peter. 

Stiles has gotten better at blow jobs, too. He can get Peter down to the back of his tongue without gagging -there was a lot of practicing- though he still couldn't get all of Peter in. 

He pulled Peter's pants and underwear down to mid thigh, wrapping a cool hand around the base. Peter's legs spread as best they could with the restriction of his clothes, but laid still on the bed, watching Stiles with hooded eyes, pupils blown to the point that when his eyes flashed, it barely registered. 

Stiles used his other hand to pull down on Peter's foreskin, exposing the leaking head of his cock. 

He dropped his head, taking in as much of Peter as he could and earing a growled out moan, Peter's chest heaving. Stiles sucked and licked at him, using his hand to stroke what Stiles' mouth couldn't get to. 

He wanted this to be good for Peter. He took a breath through his nose, psyching himself up before he took Peter just deep enough that Peter's cockhead hit his tonsils. 

Stiles squeezed his watering eyes shut, and was about to pull back on a gagging cough when Peter's fingers in his hair yanked him off completely. 

Stiles dropped his head, coughing into his elbow. "M'okay," he managed. 

Peter had sat up, hand still in Stiles' hair, holding on tight. 

"Warn me next time you wanna go deeper," Peter scolds, using his other hand to wipe at the tears on Stiles' cheeks. "There're tricks to doing it safely."

"Okay," Stiles rasped, licking the spit and pre-cum from his lower lip. 

"Stick with what you can manage, we'll work on the rest later."

Stiles nods again before lowering his head, mouthing at Peter's cock. Peter's hand stays in his hair, not pulling or pushing. 

Stiles gets back into the groove of things, and in no time at all, he has Peter gasping and moaning above him, fingers twitching in his hair and hips rolling up into his mouth. 

"Pull off," Peter grinds out. Stiles does as he's told. He may be good at giving blow jobs, but he wasn't so good at taking cum straight from the source like Peter was. 

Stiles used his hand, jerking Peter off and kitten licking the head whenever it popped out of his foreskin. 

Peter came with a growl, head thrown back and shoulders pressing into the mattress. His back arched, shoving his chest up into the air. 

Stiles licked up the side of his cock, following the slow trail of cum over his fingers and back to the head, sucking at him a bit to get the last of it. 

He barely managed to pull his head back when Peter had Stiles under his arms, yanking him up and throwing him onto his back. 

Stiles let out an indignant squawk that ended in a laugh, startled as Peter dropped onto him with a growl. 

"Your turn."

*-*

"You know," Stiles grunted, looking up at the decorations hanging from the ceiling. "I still don't know why you guys celebrate Thanksgiving."

Peter rolled his eyes, smirking as he placed a kiss to the side of Stiles' head while he passed with two hot plates of stuffing. 

"I mean, you're all part native American, right?" Stiles continued. "Isn't that kind of like, celebrating the genocide of your people?"

John raised an eyebrow, setting a bowl of mashed potatoes at the table. Stiles set down silverware. 

"You're not getting out of setting the table," Talia said, raising an eyebrow. Cora giggled beside him, setting out the plates. Stiles gaped at her. 

"I'm not- thats not why I mentioned it!" 

"Sure, son," John chuckled. 

"Hey, I'm merely curious," Stiles said. "I love Thanksgiving dinner, I've just always thought it was weird that you guys celebrated."

"I think thats borderline racist, Stiles," Derek grinned. 

"How is that racist?" Stiles demanded. "The whole reason we have a Thanksgiving was because some spoiled rich white fucker-"

"Language," John cut in. 

"Some spoiled rich white dude," Stiles corrected, shooting his dad a look. "Decided to play Hitler before it was cool."

"I don't think Hitler was ever cool," Laura said with a roll of her eyes. 

"You know what I mean," Stiles grunted, throwing a fork at her. She caught it and threw it back. Stiles didnt catch it, and it hit him in the arm, hard. "Ow!"

"Children," Talia scolded. Laura ducked her head to hide her smirk while Stiles rubbed over his arm, glaring at her. 

"No more history lessons," Talia continued. "Lets eat."

Stiles huffed, but the smell of dinner pushed everything else out of his mind. He plopped down beside Peter, grabbing the spoon from the bowl of mashed potatoes.

"Save some for everyone else," Cora yelped when Stiles dropped more than one serving onto his plate. 

"Cause you guys don't eat enough already," Stiles rolled his eyes. Peter snatched the spoon before Stiles could get another scoop. Stiles grabbed the biggest piece of turkey breast he could find in retaliation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fun chapter for you! Next chapter is more sexy times!! What do you guys think?


	56. Chapter 56

"They should have Thanksgiving and Christmas further apart," Stiles grumbled, falling into bed beside Peter. 

"Everyone knows holiday meals are superior in every way, but we have to wait all year for it," he continued as Peter crawled into bed. "We should move Thanksgiving to like, April or something. That way we have less of a wait time between holiday food."

"Or we could just make turkey and mashed potatoes for your birthday," Peter hummed, tugging Stiles into his front. 

"Its not the same," Stiles huffed. 

"Go to sleep, Stiles," Peter breathed, nuzzling into the back of his neck. 

"No one understands my pain," Stiles grumbled, settling into his mate. 

"Tiny violins are playing just for you, baby."

Stiles scoffed, slapping Peter's arm. "Don't hear any," he countered. 

"Human ears wouldn't be able to pick them up," Peter said, voice low with sleep. "Trust me, the sympathy orchestra is playing."

*-*

"When are we gonna get to the good stuff?" Stiles asked, glaring upside down at Peter. The werewolf lifted an eyebrow. 

"This is the good stuff," he said. "Now, let your head hang off the bed."

Stiles shifted, shoulder walking until his head hung off the bed. 

"I meant, like, the good good stuff," Stiles amended. "You know, when are we gonna do butt stuff."

"You mean when am I gonna fuck you in the ass?" Peter asked oh so eloquently. Not that Stiles was eloquent either. 

"Yeah," Stiles said, hooking his fingers into his boxers and pulling them off. "I'm almost seventeen, and we've been fooling around for long enough."

"You've still got four months until your birthday," Peter reminded him. 

"So its gonna be a birthday present?" Stiles asked hopefully, still looking up at Peter from his spot on the bed. Peter was already naked, hand lazily stroking himself. 

Stiles had grown really comfortable with his nakedness around Peter. It almost never registered anymore, unless they were tumbling in the sheets. 

Stiles couldnt help but smile at that realization. He was comfortable to hold a conversation about sex with his mate. He was comfortable to lay on the bed, naked as a newborn, and he didnt feel the need to cover up when Peter's eyes lustily took in every inch of his exposed skin. 

"If you want," Peter smirked. 

"Oh, definitely want," Stiles nodded. 

"You sure you want to try this?" Peter asked, stepping forward. Stiles was face to crotch with Peter now, and Stiles nodded, loosing his voice once again. 

"Okay, take me into that pretty mouth of yours then."

Stiles opened his mouth, allowing Peter to step forward. Stiles lifted his hands, gripping Peter's thighs as he got to work, licking and sucking at his uncut penis. 

"Relax your throat for me, sweetheart."

Stiles took in a deep breath, knowing he was going to have to hold it for a little bit, then forced himself to relax as best he could. 

His head was angled down, forehead pressing lightly into the sides of Peter's thighs. "Good boy," Peter hummed, his hand finding Stiles' jaw. Stiles swallowed around his cock, Peter's fingers twitching. 

"Tap out when you need to," Peter ordered smoothly. Stiles squeezed Peter's thigh in response. 

Peter kept his hand on the underside of Stiles' chin, fingers places gently over the top of his neck. 

Peter rolled his hips forward, allowing Stiles to get used to the extra inches he was being fed. He had been worried Peter would go straight to it, but he shouldn't have been. Peter was responsible and 'safety first' when it came to anything new in the bedroom. 

He warned Stiles before he pressed in further, and Stiles held his breath, squeezed his eyes shut and felt Peter slid in past his tonsils. 

"Good," Peter praised, instantly pulling off. Stiles coughed, turning his head and blinking away the water in his eyes. 

Peter squatted down, hand still resting on Stiles' throat, feeling the muscles work as Stiles swallowed and gagged a little, clearing his throat to get rid of the phantom feeling of Peter's cock. 

"Do you want to keep going?" Peter asked, serious as ever. Stiles took another second to collect himself before he nodded. 

"Please," he said, voice a little rough around the edges. He wanted to do this. He wanted to be able to take Peter all the way, like Peter could take him. 

Stiles knew it was different. Knew Stiles was three inches shorter than Peter, and not as girthy -he hadn't gotten any thicker, and it didn't seem like he was going to. 

"Okay," Peter said, kissing Stiles' spit-slick lips before standing up again. "We'll go slow."

Stiles took him into his mouth again, hands still on Peter's thighs, feeling the muscles underneath his fingertips flex with the roll of his hips. 

Stiles pinched his eyes shut, Peter moved forward, and Stiles held his breath. 

Peter stayed in his throat longer this time before pulling out again, but he didnt leave Stiles' mouth. Stiles' vision was blurry with tears, his mouth filling with spit, but he sucked Peter off, coughing slightly around his cock. 

"You're doing so well, baby," Peter crooned. Stiles gets another warning before Peter pushes back down his throat -still not enough for Stiles to take him all the way in. 

Peter's hand holds Stiles' throat, and when Stiles doesn't immediately pull off, Peter thrusts into his mouth once, twice, then pulls off himself. 

Stiles gasps, spit stringing from his mouth to Peter's cock. He swallows, feels the soreness in his throat. His breathing is labored, and he coughs some more, but he opens his mouth some more and takes Peter back in. 

His face is wet with tears and spit, and Peter thrusts softly into his throat, choking him, but pulling back every couple thrusts for Stiles to catch his breath, to cough and try to get his gag reflex under control. 

Then, Peter was pulling out entirely. Stiles gasped for breath, his chest heaving. His fingers twitched against Peter's thighs, head still hanging off the bed. Peter stoked himself until he was cumming in ropes across Stiles' neck and chest. 

His hand returns to Stiles' throat, and he feels the soreness leaching out of him as Peter runs his fingers through the cum on Stiles' neck. 

"You did so good, baby," Peter praises, squatting back down again to get face to face with Stiles. 

Peter took his thumbs to Stiles' eyes, wiping the tears away before kissing his lips softly. 

"Now, let me take care of you."

"Okay," Stiles rasped. Peter helped him sit up, and Stiles stilled until his head stopped spinning before he dropped down onto his pillow. 

He'd gone soft at the beginning, but Peter gets him hard again in no time with hot breaths, soft kisses and slow stroking. 

Stiles' throat is sore, but he can't help the little reedy noises that escape his mouth as Peter sucks him down. 

Stiles cums on a nearly voiceless moan, hips jerking up into Peter's mouth. Hes exhausted when Peter pulls off, and the werewolf tucks Stiles into his side, hand softly brushing along his neck, pulling the dull ache from him. 

"Can we do that again?" Stiles asked softly, turning his head to see Peter. "Not right away, but, maybe later?"

Peter glanced down at him with a raised eyebrow and Stiles blushes a bit. "I liked it."

Now Peter smirked, and he pulled Stiles closer, humming approvingly. "I think its about time we had the talk." 

"Its a little late for the sex talk, isn't it?" Stiles deadpanned. "And thats dad's job."

"No, sweetheart," Peter chuckled. "The kink talk." Stiles burned crimson, tucking his head into Peter's shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well we got some more sexy times!! Stiles may or may not have a breathplay kink! I'm not going to write about kinks much in this book, its just more, talking about it and its only talked about it right now so if you're not into the kinky stuff don't worry, this is about it. 
> 
> Also, this book is officially ending on chapter 65! The fire takes place in chapter 60. I'll put a warning on 59 for those who want to skip it or stop reading. Let me know what you guys think!
> 
> Also, if you want to see how I see Stiles' spark, look [here](https://itsme-basil.tumblr.com/post/644847039060000768/the-boy-who-runs-with-the-wolves)! And let me know you come from ao3 when you get there I wanna know!!


	57. Chapter 57

Everyone knew what had happened the next morning when Stiles came down for breakfast. Laura made it her personal job to embarrass the fuck out of Stiles. 

Cora and Derek were too grossed out with the thought of their uncle Peter being sexual at all -especially with someone their age. 

Stiles had bruises on his collarbones and his neck -and under his shirt- that Issac, Boyd and Erica loved to point out with suggestive eyebrow wiggling and smirking. 

In middle school, he was the one people whispered about as being so lucky to have met his soulmate so young. 

Most didnt find their soulmates until after high school, sometimes not even when they reached their thirties. Stiles had met Peter when he was thirteen. 

Sometimes Stiles wondered if the nemeton had anything to do with that. If Stiles' dormant spark had inadvertently lead him to Peter. 

He was grateful for whatever it was that gave him Peter so early. Without him, Stiles might not have gotten the courage to make friends with Issac or Boyd or even Erica, and he definitely wouldn't have had the courage to talk to them. 

Peter had told him countless times that it was all him, but Stiles knew it was Peter. 

The school day started out normal aside from the teasing, until lunch time. It was too cold to sit out at their picnic table outside, do they were in the cafeteria, surrounded by noise. 

Stiles was lounged back against the chair, taking a gulp of water when he -the nemeton- felt something cross into city limits. 

Stiles inhaled and promptly choked on his water, spewing it everywhere and jolting forward. 

"Whoa, Jesus!" Erica yelped. Stiles coughed violently, struggling to take in air while expelling the water from his lungs while his eyes watered. 

Boyd patted his back a little harder than necessary, and Stiles didn't know if it helped or not. 

"So-orry," he managed between gasps and coughs. Kids from the tables around him turned to see the spectacle, and Stiles tucked his mouth into his elbow to try and muffle the sound of him drowning. 

"You okay?" Issac asked. 

"You're supposed to drink water, not breathe it," Derek huffed, smirking. Stiles managed to roll his teary eyes, coughing some more, even though all that was left was a tickle in his chest. 

"Oh really," he grunted. "No idea."

"What'd you do, swallow down the wrong hole?" Erica asked, smirking now that she knew Stiles wasn't going to die in the high school cafeteria. 

"No," he snapped, clearing his throat and coughing once more. "I just got distracted."

"By what?"

Stiles glanced at Derek, and the werewolf dropped his grin and frowned a bit, raising an eyebrow. 

"Just, uh, something," Stiles said lamely. "I gotta go talk to coach real quick."

With that, Stiles got to his feet, taking his trey of watery leftover food and walked out of the cafeteria. He dropped the trey in the trash before grabbing his phone. 

He sent a text to Derek quickly letting him know it was Spark related and that he'd explain, then pulled up Peter's number and hit call. 

"Stiles," Peter answered after the third ring. "Everything alright?"

"I felt something," Stiles answered, wincing at his choice of words as he walked further away from the cafeteria. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, sweetheart," Peter said. "The pack is fine, there's nothing here."

Stiles let out a slightly relieved breath, but his shaky fingers pinched at his lower lip, his heart rate jackrabbiting. 

"Tell me what it felt like."

"I don't know," Stiles said, sounding a little panicked even to himself as he sped walked down the hall, towards the locker rooms. 

"It felt like, burning," Stiles struggled, shoving his way into the empty locker room and pacing between the benches. "Hotter than fire, and old, but not like age old, more history old."

"We'll keep an eye out for whatever it might be," Peter said, voice even and calm. "You can cancel with your dad if you want, but so far, nothings shown up at the house."

Stiles took his fingers from his lip and ran it through his hair before sighing. As long as the pack was okay, so was Stiles. 

"I'm alright," he managed. He sat down on one of the benches, bouncing his leg. "Not everything I feel is necessarily bad, right?"

"Right," Peter agreed, and Stiles could hear his smile through the phone. "For all you know, its just a supernatural passing through. But we'll keep a look out, and Laura and Derek will take you to the station after school."

Stiles nodded. Laura was using the jeep over the weekend. If anything happened, Stiles would have to rely on his dad driving him home -no questions asked- or for Peter to come pick him up. 

"Okay," Stiles said, bobbing his head. Peter was right. For all he knew, whatever he felt was a friendly. But after the alphas and hunters, Stiles didnt want to take any chances. 

Peter talked with him until the end of the lunch period and then Stiles went to class. He texted Derek and Laura what he'd felt and what Peter had said. All three of them agreed to keep their eyes open. 

At the end of the day, Laura was waiting for Stiles and Derek outside in the jeep. 

"You okay?" She asked, raising an eyebrow at Stiles when he climbed in. His pillow and weekend bag were already in the back seat beside Derek. 

"All good," Stiles said, giving a barely passable smile. Laura didn't mention it and pulled out of the parking lot, heading for the sheriff's department. 

Stiles was lost in thought during the drive, mind racing with what it could be that made him feel that way. 

"Holy shit, Laura!" Derek exclaimed. Stiles snapped his head up, eyes widening before he looked over at Laura. Then his eyes widened even more. 

"Shit!" 

"Holy fuck, what do I do?" Laura exclaimed. Shining from her chest like a ray of watery light, was a soul thread. 

"Follow it, dumbass!" Stiles yelped, sitting up in his seat and completely forgetting everything else. 

"Okay, okay, fuck, this is crazy," Laura streamed, hands gripping the wheel tightly even as they shook. 

"Figures you'd get your mate before me," Derek huffed, smirking between the front seats. Stiles grinned, nearly bouncing in his chair in excitement. 

Laura ended up speeding down main street, and pulled up to a stop outside of the sheriff's office. 

"Holy shit your soulmate is a felon!" Stiles gaped, turning to Laura, who looked on the verge of hyperventilating. 

"Or they're a cop," Derek winced. 

"Or, they're visiting?" Laura suggested hopefully. 

"Go see," Stiles ordered, climbing out of the jeep and running over to Laura's side. 

"I think I'm good," Laura swallowed. Stiles rolled his eyes, grabbing her by the wrist and tugging at her. 

"Either you get inside to see who it is or whoever it is comes outside," Stiles informed. Derek climbed out too, grinning widely. 

"Okay," Laura huffed, climbing out of the jeep. Stiles yanked at her, dragging her up the stairs and inside. 

They got to the lobby just as a man in uniform stumbled out of the bull pen. He was fresh faced and looked young. Maybe just a little older than Laura was, and sporting a shocked expression. 

"Shit," Derek breathed. Stiles had never seen the officer before, he must be new. 

"Hi," the guy greeted, not taking his eyes off of Laura. Stiles looked from him to her, then back again before nudging her in the side. 

"Uh, hi," Laura managed, voice tight. 

"What are you?" Derek asked, tilting his head to the side. That seemed to pull the two out of their stupor, and Laura inhaled a bit, taking in his scent. 

"Uh."

And then John came in, placing a hand on the officer's shoulder. "Whats all this?"

"Laura's the new guy's soulmate!" Stiles exclaimed. Laura turned bright red, tearing her eyes from the man to look at the floor. 

"I'll be damned," John chuckled. "Jordan, this is Laura, her brother Derek and my son, Stiles."

Jordan smiled at each of them, though his eyes stayed focused on Laura. 

"Why don't we take this somewhere a little more private," John continued. "I'll take the boys out for dinner, you two can talk in my office."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really didn't like the end of this chapter. I hate it actually. I had a vision for Laura meeting Jordan and this wasn't it. 😭
> 
> Actually this chapter as a whole just kind of sucks im sorry.


	58. Chapter 58

The hunters are forgotten for a whole week. Jordan Parrish, the new deputy in Beacon Hills, is Laura's mate, and it turns out, he's what Stiles had felt entering the city limits earlier that day. 

He calls himself a hellhound, though he looks nothing like the fictional adaptations of them. He's not a dog at all, and after a very long question and answer from Stiles -everyone, including himself, was shocked that Stiles was actually talking to him- found out he couldnt shapeshift like werewolves, but he could turn into fire like Johnny Storm from Fantastic Four. 

He was just as nervous and shy around Laura as she was around him, and they'd already been on two dates since meeting. 

Now, Derek and Cora tease her instead of Stiles. Stiles knows Derek is jealous. He wants his own soulmate, but contends himself with sleeping around. Stiles knows the instant Derek finds his mate, he'll settle down. 

Cora could care less about her soulmate. She's told everyone on multiple occasions that she wouldn't mind being mateless for life. 

Talia took to Jordan pretty quickly, and even Peter seemed to warm up to him -though Stiles thinks that's mostly because he actually spoke to Jordan. 

Hes even invited Laura, Derek, Cora and Stiles to his place for new years eve. He's got a couple friends who are gonna be there. 

"You don't have to be nice to us just because you're Laura's mate," Stiles reminded him quietly, back pressed into Peter's chest as they sat on the couch. Jordan was in regular clothes, sitting on the other end of the couch with Laura pressed against his thigh. 

"Uh, yeah he does," Derek countered. Cora giggled at his feet, her homework resting on the coffee table. 

"I'm not being nice just because I'm Laura's soulmate," Jordan assured, glancing at Stiles even as Laura throws one of Cora's pencils at Derek's head. 

"I just want to get to know the family."

Peter hummed behind Stiles, the vibration going through his back. His fingers brush softly along Stiles' neck, up behind his ear, then down to his shoulder and back up again. 

"We're not the biggest pack," Peter said. "But you're apart of it now."

Stiles grinned when Jordan blushed, tilting his head back to see Peter. Peter raised an eyebrow at him in amusement before kissing his nose. 

"Laura tells me you've been mates for almost four years," Jordan said, changing the subject. 

Sometimes Stiles forgets its been four years. It feels like it could've been months since his dad had driven him to the Hale house. But he had been thirteen, had stood barely to Peter's chest. 

Now, Stiles was the same height as Peter, and he was almost seventeen. He was graduating high school this summer, and when he met Peter, he was still in middle school. 

"How is it?" Jordan continued when Peter nodded. "With the age gap?"

"Are you asking as a cop?" Stiles asked, narrowing his eyes. Laura kicked him in the foot. "Hey! Its a serious question!" Turning to Jordan. "You are working with my dad."

Jordan just laughed a little. "Just curious," he promised. "I don't really care what happens behind closed doors."

"Stiles and I don't have a problem with the age gap," Peter said, first finger tapping on Stiles' shoulder. "With our lifespans being so different, its easier. And we had a couple years to get to know each other first."

"Different lifespans?"

"Yeah," Stiles sighed. He still wasn't too thrilled about it. "Werewolves can live up to seventy years longer than the average human lifespan. 

"So, Peter's middle age would be seventy-five human years when mine is forty-five."

"Huh," Jordan says contemplatively. "I guess I'm pretty ignorant when it comes to werewolves. You guys are the first I've met."

"We don't like dog jokes," Cora said. Stiles' pfft of laughter was unintentional, and he quickly covered his mouth. Behind him, Peter chuckled. 

"Right, no dog jokes," Jordan smirked. "I don't like fire jokes."

"Fire jokes?"

"Yeah, you know, 'you're smokin' hot' or when you see the no smoking inside and someone says 'well, guess you can't come in'."

"People say that to you?" Stiles asked, trying really hard to hide his laugh. He gets a kick from Laura. 

"Ouch, Laura!" Stiles yelped, yanking his feet back. "Fragile human here, I bruise!"

"We know," Derek huffed, smirking knowingly at Stiles. Stiles puts shocking Derek on his mental to-do list and grumbles. Its not his fault Peter likes to mark his territory. Also not his fault if he likes it too. 

"So, the sheriff doesn't know about any of you?" Jordan asked. 

"No," Stiles shook his head. "He doesn't know the supernatural exist. And we'd like to keep it that way a bit longer."

Because Stiles was still afraid of his dad and alcohol. He thinks he might always. His worry about John not handling the news well is not out of left field. 

"I just thought, with you being a spark that he'd have to know."

"How so?" Peter asked. 

"Well, from my understanding, sparks are kind of hereditary," Jordan shrugged. "It may skip a generation or two, but sparks aren't created, they're born."

Stiles blinks. That wasn't in the books. Stiles turned to look at Peter, eyes slightly wider than normal. Peter looks just as shocked at that, as does the others in the living room. 

"How do you know?" Peter finally asked. Stiles turned back to him, heart in his throat. 

"I've been around for a long time," Jordan shrugged. "Or, at least what I am has. Its hard to explain, but the hellhound part of me has met sparks before, back when they were as common as werewolves."

"So you're saying Stiles' mom could've been a spark?" Derek asked, raising an eyebrow. He was pretty good at eyebrow speak. Peter says he gets it from his dad -which no one talks about. "Or his grandma?"

Jordan shrugged and nodded. "It could be he had a great grandparent who was a spark, and it just skipped a couple generations."

"I don't think my mom had it," Stiles said, shaking his head. Stiles was pretty sure Talia and Peter knew what happened with his mom -his dad most likely told Peter when they'd first met, and in turn Peter told Talia. 

"Grandma?" Laura asked, curiously. Stiles shrugged. 

"Mom's side lives out in Ohio, and they've never liked my dad," Stiles said. "After she died, they kind of just stopped keeping in touch."

Peter's fingers drag lightly over the back of Stiles' neck and he suppresses a shiver. 

"It might be something to look into," Derek shrugged back. "Maybe they know about sparks and can help with yours."

Stiles gave a noncommittal grunt. The only thing he remembered about his mom's side was a cousin who always stuck her tongue out at him, a grandma who seemed to look down her nose in disappointment at his dad, and a grandpa who seemed to always disappear into a study whenever his mom brought them over. 

He thinks his aunt was judgemental and a little biased when it came to Stiles telling on his cousin for being mean to him. 

He doesn't want to extend an olive branch to them. He was fine with his dad. 

At the end of the evening, Laura walked Jordan to the door after Stiles, Cora and Derek all promised to come by next weekend for the new years party. 

"Dont worry about my friends," he had said. "They're in the know."

Stiles smirked when it took a little longer for Laura to come back from the front door. From the look Derek and Cora give each other, Stiles surmises they're kissing. 

"Disgusting," Derek muttered. Cora nodded with a scrunched nose. Stiles rolled his eyes, wiggling up against Peter. 

"You play tonsil hockey with half the high school, and you think goodbye kissing is gross?" Stiles laughed. 

"When its family, yeah," Derek groused. Stiles snorted. "Honestly I have no idea how you or Jordan thinks anyone in this family is attractive enough to look at let alone kiss."

"Excuse you," Stiles exclaimed, offended for all of them. "You guys are sculpted from marble by Greek gods! You're blind."

"I'm not blind," Derek growled. "I'm not about to think my family is attractive."

"You saying I'm ugly?" Laura asked, walking back into the living room with a raised eyebrow. 

"The absolute ugliest," Derek snapped. Stiles was startled into laughter when Laura jumps on him with a growl, tackling Derek and the chair to the floor. 

"You break my chair and ill break your legs," Peter threatened behind Stiles. Stiles grinned, turning in his hold and placing a kiss to his lips. 

"Dont listen to Derek, you're really fuckin' hot."

Peter chuckled over the sound of growling and mauling and Laura demanding Derek tap out. "Thank you sweetheart," he smiled, placing another kiss to his lips. "You're not too bad yourself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada! What do you guys think??


	59. Chapter 59

Peter loved stroking noises out of Stiles whenever he could. Especially alone in their room. He revels in how reactive Stiles still is to his touch, how a slow drag of his fingers up Stiles' arm had goosebumps trailing in their wake. 

How he arched into Peter's mouth when he licked and bit down his torso. 

How Stiles' legs bent, his hips rolled forward and his chest raised into the air when Peter sucked him off. 

Even when he slept, how just brushing his nose along Stiles' neck had the boy wiggling closer to him, rubbing a cheek subconsciously against whatever part of Peter he was using as a pillow. 

Peter's eyes flashed as a particular moan left Stiles' parted lips, his face scrunched and eyes pinched shut. 

The two were laying on their sides, facing each other and naked as newborns. 

He loved how comfortable Stiles was with him now. How he didnt hide his skin. His fingers twitched and spasmed with the rest of his body as Peter brushed against his prostate again, pulling out another shuddery moan. 

Stiles had only ever taken two fingers. Tonight, Peter was trying for three. 

"Hows that feel, baby?" Peter rumbled low. Stiles' eyes fluttered open, breath hitching. 

"Good," he gasped. "Good, really -ah!- really good."

"Think you can take another?" Peter whispered, dragging a kiss out of Stiles' parted lips. He nodded almost frantically. Peter pulled the boy closer so their pelvises were pressed together, and he used his hand to guide Stiles' leg over his hip. 

He easily adds more lube to his fingers behind Stiles' back with one hand, dropping the bottle back onto the comforter before brushing his middle finger over Stiles' asshole. 

Stiles shivered, reaching between them to stroke his cock. Peter instantly swatted his hand away. 

"No touching," he scolded. Stiles' eyes widened momentarily before an almost whimper escapes his lips. 

"Peter," he begs, dropping his head onto Peter's chest. 

"Dont touch," Peter remained firm, pushing past the ring of muscle with his middle finger. "I know you can cum untouched."

Stiles lets out another one of his beautiful little noises, gripping Peter's arm. Peter pushed his finger in a little further, pushing in with his forefinger as well. 

Stiles' body tenses at the intrusion, breathing coming out in short pants. 

"You're doing so good," Peter praised, pushing in to the first knuckle, his ring finger just barely fitting in. He kisses Stiles' temple, and pushes in further. 

"Peter," he whines, shifting his hips forward, shoving himself flush against Peter. Peter hums soothingly, getting to the second knuckle. 

He's tight. Peter pumps his fingers in and out at the second knuckle, patiently waiting for the muscle to relax. For Stiles to grow comfortable with the burn. 

He doesn't take the ache it makes. He's told Stiles he won't. Not when it comes to sex. Stiles wouldn't be able to tell if something was wrong if he did. 

So he lets Stiles feel the burn of stretching around his three fingers, kisses him with tongue and teeth. And then he pushes in until his knuckles pop in, and Stiles moans. 

It takes nothing to push to the third knuckle, and he finds Stiles' prostate as easily as it is to find food in the kitchen. 

The boy arches into Peter, fingers scrambling for purchase. "There you are," he smirks, continuing to pet him. Stiles' cock leaks pre-cum, his throat a wreck with noise. 

He's so responsive. Peter leans his head down, worrying s bruise onto his bare shoulder as he thrusts his fingers in and out of his boy. 

He can't wait to stretch him open for his cock, to slide into the warm heat of Stiles and completely ruin him. Theres something otherworldly to being Stiles' first for everything, and he takes great joy in taking every first he has. 

Stiles trembles in his arms, mewling and crying out as Peter ruthlessly thrusts his fingers in and out, in and out, hitting his prostate every time. 

"Can you cum on my fingers, baby?" Peter growls, tugging Stiles' lower lip between his teeth. Stiles moans, eyes falling shut. 

He's not going to last much longer. Not with how Peter's attacking his prostate. He knows when exactly Stiles' about to cum, and watches as Stiles' body tenses, his face scrunched up and his chest heaving, before he stills. 

He lets out a cry when he cums, cock twitching through each wave, ass clenching around Peter's fingers. 

Peter continues to stroke his prostate, working him for all he's got, cum drooling from his cock and down his stomach. 

"No more!" Stiles cried after, one hand flying back to grab Peter's wrist. "Please."

Peter pulls his fingers free, Stiles' body drooping into the bed, letting out a breath. Peter smirked, leaning forward to kiss him. 

Stiles kissed back lazily, fingers creeping into his hair. Peter rolled forward, pushing Stiles to his back as he kissed him. Stiles went easily, pliant in his post-orgasm. 

Peter rolled his hips forward, rutting against the jut of Stiles' hip as he nipped and licked at Stiles' mouth. 

He came on a growl, body tensing above his boy, nose tucking into Stiles' neck to breathe in the smell of sweat and sex. The pungent scent of balsam fir and cinnamon. 

"I love you," Stiles breathed, voice soft and full of emotion. Peter licked the side of his neck, from collar bone to the hinge of his jaw before nipping at his earlobe. 

"Love you too, sweetheart," Peter hummed, sitting up and taking Stiles with him. Stiles clung to him like a naked octopus, smearing cum over Peter's torso. "Want a bath?"

"Only if you put bubbles in," Stiles said, grinning against Peter's shoulder. Peter chuckled, shoving Stiles until he fell back into the bed. 

He kissed Stiles soundly before going to the bathroom to run the bath. Stiles stayed sprawled out on the bed, and when the tub was filled with water and bubbles, Peter came back to the room. 

"Carry me," Stiles ordered, stretching sinuously on the bed. Peter's eyes flashed at the sight and he tucked down to bite at the skin under his belly button. Stiles let out a whoosh of air, giggling slightly and wiggling. 

Stiles yelped in surprise when Peter lifted him off the bed, slinging the boy over his shoulder with an arm wrapped around the back of his knees to keep him from falling on his head. 

"Not like this!" Stiles laughed, hands on Peter's lower back to keep him slightly upright. Peter smirked, turning and heading for the bathroom. 

"You gotta specify," Peter replied. Stiles huffed, dropping his hands so his chest rested against Peter's back. 

"You're the worst," he grumbled, but then his hands wandered. Peter's smirk widened when Stiles' hands groped at his ass as he walked into the bathroom. 

"Like the view?"

"Its better than your face," Stiles said, and Peter could hear the smirk, and the lie. 

"Is it now?"

Stiles tensed at the tone, scent growing apprehensive and excited all at once. 

"Definitely," he said. Peter yanked at Stiles' legs, leaning forward and using his other arm to catch Stiles' back. The boy yelped, eyes wide, and then Peter was dumping him into the tub. 

Stiles sputtered out a laugh, wiping at his eyes with sudsy hands. "You're mean."

Peter stepped into the tub too, sitting down across from him and grinning. "I don't know what you're talking about, I'm an angel."

"Uh-huh," Stiles smirked, rolling his eyes. Once Peter is settled, Stiles shifts closer. Peter smiles, loving how the boy crowded up against him whenever he could. 

"Are you sure you won't come with us?" Stiles asked, pressing their wet chests together, limbs tangled under bubbles. 

"Adult new years is more fun than teenage new years," Peter chuckled. 

"Its no fair, you can't even get drunk."

"Neither can you," Peter hummed, raising an eyebrow at Stiles, who blushed a bit. 

"I wasn't going to," he sighed. 

"Sure you weren't."

"I wasn't!" Stiles insisted, turning around in the water so his back was pressed against Peter's front. "Jordan works for my dad, if anything he'll probably serve us juice boxes."

"You like juice boxes," Peter smirked, kissing the back of his neck. 

"So not the point," Stiles whined. Peter just kissed him a little more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost finished with the book! This book and Pretty Little Wolf are my most popular books right now, I don't know if this book will surpass PLW but its almost neck and neck! 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: the next chapter will be about the fire, so if you want to hop off the reading train, this is the place to do so!


	60. Chapter 60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Hale fire

The two stayed in the bath until Stiles' fingers got prune-y. They were driving out to Jordan's place in two hours. Stiles pulls on a pair of purple boxers, little galaxy triangles dotting the fabric. 

He jumps into a pair of ripped jeans, and lets out a surprised noise when a shirt lands over his face. 

"Wear that one," Peter hummed. Stiles pulled the shirt away to look at it. It was Peter's maroon v-neck. He easily pulls it over his head before grabbing his dark blue flannel. 

"If I'm wearing your shirt you gotta wear mine," Stiles said, tossing his own shirt over to the side of the bed Peter was dressing on. 

The werewolf caught it easily and held it out to look at. It was one of Stiles' graphic tshirts. One of the more subtle ones with small font over the right of his chest. 

'If you can read this you're too fucking close'

Peter slips into it and Stiles smiles widely. Its a little tight across his torso, but Stiles' grown into broad shoulders, so it fits Peter everywhere else. 

"I can't believe we're that couple," Stiles huffed, walking over and curling around Peter's front, cheek pressing to Peter's shoulder. 

"That couple?" Peter asked. Stiles grinned, nodding and winding his arms around Peter's middle. 

"We can't sleep without each other," Stiles said. "You get all antsy if I leave without giving you my pillow or my shirt."

"I don't see how that's a bad thing," Peter confessed, nuzzling against Stiles' neck. 

"Its not a bad thing," Stiles agreed, pulling back to grin at him. Peter gave him a quick kiss before shoving him away playfully. Stiles laughed before grabbing his bag. 

"Taking your sketchbook?" Peter asked when Stiles slung it over his shoulder. He shrugged. 

"Its three hours before midnight, and I know I'll get bored."

*-*

The new years party wasn't as big as Stiles thought. Jordan introduces him to the four other people there. Theo, Emily, Kira and a fourteen year old named Liam. Liam belonged to Theo and Emily, and were all human. 

Kira was a kitsune. 

"Oh, it's been a long time since I've seen a spark," she exclaimed, bouncing on her heels when Jordan introduced them all. 

Stiles gave a small smile, glancing up at Jordan, then over to Derek. He was comfortable with them, but not with the four new people. 

"He's shy," Cora said when Stiles didnt say anything further. Jordan tilted his head a bit, knowing for a fact Stiles was the exact opposite of shy, but he thankfully doesn't say anything about it. 

"The party's in the living room," Emily smiled, waving Cora over. "We're playing Apples to Apples if you guys want to play."

Derek curled an arm around Stiles' shoulders, tucking him into his side. Stiles smiled up at him gratefully. 

Laura and Jordan disappeared into the kitchen, and after everyone had a handful of red cards, the two came back in. Jordan looked a bit more understanding, and Stiles gave Laura a small smile. She grinned back and then tugged at his hair before they began playing. 

They play one round, and then Stiles backs out, sitting on the couch behind Liam and pulling out his sketch pad. Peter makes it a point to buy him one every year, on top of his birthday presents. 

His first book is still in the tin box with his mom's things, though he took the box back to his dad's house. Some of the things his mom kept inside are now on the mantle, beside the old family pictures. The tin box has sort of turned into Stiles' extra art supply box -the one he uses during the weekends. 

He doesn't know where the second sketchbook is. Possibly on the bookshelf in Peter's room. 

Stiles draws nothing at first, just mindless doodling. Some doodles take shape, a tree, lightning, a wolf. Some stay doodles. Stiles fills the page, listening to everyone laughing and playing. 

He glances at his phone and gets to his feet, shoving the sketchbook into his bag and heading to the bathroom. He locks himself in and sits on the toilet. 

"Hello, sweetheart," Peter's voice sounds. Stiles instantly smiles. "You having fun?"

"Yeah," Stiles said, leaning back and settling. "Thought I'd call you before midnight, since I can't kiss you."

"Human traditions are so strange," Peter huffed with affection. 

"Says the werewolf who celebrates human traditions," Stiles sassed. 

"Your mouth is gonna get you in trouble one of these days," Peter chuckled. Stiles smirked, looking down at his lip. 

Everyone was loud in the living room, so Stiles said, "I thought you liked my mouth." His smirk grew when he heard Peter growl a bit. 

"Stiles, I-" Peter started, only for something to cut him off. Stiles frowned, hearing Vivian sounding slightly frightened. 

"Peter?"

"Hold on," Peter responded. Stiles sat up on the toilet lid as he heard the worried tones filtering through the phone. 

"Peter, whats wrong?" 

It took a couple seconds that felt like hours before Peter returned to the phone, and even though he sounded calm, Stiles knew he was worried too. 

"Nothing, sweetheart. I gotta go, but I want you and the kids to stay with Jordan until I call you, okay?"

"Peter-"

"Stiles," Peter interrupted, voice firm. "Please stay with Jordan until I call."

"Please tell me whats wrong," Stiles practically begged, feeling the beginnings of panic grip his chest. His fingers buzzed with the threat of sparking. 

"There's a couple hunters out," Peter sighed. "We're going to stay inside, and I don't want you guys driving back while they're out looking for something to shoot at, okay?"

Stiles took a breath and nodded. "Okay."

"Alright, I'll call you when you guys can come home."

Before Stiles could respond, the call dropped. Stiles fiddled with the phone for a while before clambering to his feet and leaving the bathroom. 

"Everhthing okay?" Emily asked. "You were in there for a while."

Derek must've seen something on Stiles' face, or scented something on him, because he was standing up and rushing over to him, standing in front of him and blocking his view of everyone else. 

"Whats wrong?" He asked softly. Stiles felt his hands shaking a little and took a deep breath. 

"I think somethings wrong," he whispered. Derek glanced over his shoulder before dragging Stiles into the kitchen. 

"What is it?"

Stiles told him about the phone call in hushed tones. He knew Laura and Cora could hear him fine, and the living room had grown quiet after Derek pulled him away. 

"But somethings wrong," Stiles insisted. "Like, really wrong." It wasn't until he voiced it out loud that he noticed the feeling he felt wasn't from him, but fron the nemeton. 

Whatever hunters were out there weren't just prowling for innocent people to kill. 

"Okay," Derek said. "We'll go home."

Stiles nodded too and followed Derek back into the living room. 

"We gotta go," Derek said unnecessarily. Laura and Cora were already packing their things. Stiles picked up his bag. 

"I'll come with," Jordan said. 

"You don't have to, man," Derek said, the three Hales and Stiles heading for the door. Jordan grabbed his coat and made a quick excuse to his friends, who nodded them off. 

"Dont worry about it," Jordan said. "Somethings obviously wrong, maybe I can help."

Stiles didnt care who was coming. He just wanted to go home and make sure everyone was okay. 

They all clambered into the jeep with Derek, Jordan and Cora in the back seat and Laura in the passenger. 

Thankfully, Jordan's apartment was only ten minutes from the preserve, but it didn't matter when the three Hales let out a gasping whine. 

"What? What is it?" Stiles demanded, pressing further on the gas. 

"Victor," Laura winced, then let out a sob. 

"Whats wrong with Victor?" Stiles asked. His hands sparked against the steering wheel. 

They reached the preserve and Stiles pushed the jeep even faster. Jordan didn't say anything, too busy holding Cora, who was wailing. 

Even Derek was openly sobbing behind Stiles. The tires hit a pothole and Stiles cursed but kept driving. 

"Go faster!" Laura sobbed. Stiles did. He let out a shocked noise when he saw light coming from the trees. His eyes widened when he realized it was fire. The house was on fire. 

"Mom," Cora sobbed, eyes flashing blue. Laura's hands gripped the dashboard and a snarling scream of a cry filled the car. 

Stiles skidded to a halt in front of the house and fell out of the car. Everyone else was quick to follow. 

"Mom!" Derek shouted, running forward. Stiles felt frozen, breath caught in his throat. Derek slammed into a barrier five feet from the house. 

Mountain ash. 

Stiles felt himself crumble a little before he rushed forward. "They're trapped!" He shouted. 

Derek was pounding on the barrier, wolfed out and screaming bloody murder. 

Cora was clawing at it too. Laura was gasping for breath on the ground, sobbing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the weird cut off, I'll be posting the next chapter later today to make up for it.


	61. Chapter 61

Jordan was the only one who took action. He rushed for the barrier, eyes flashing orange and a look of pure determination and rage on his usually baby features. 

He placed both hands on the barrier and pushed. It was like his hands ate at the mountain ash's power. 

He broke through, and grabbed Cora and Derek before they could rush in. 

"I got it, you stay out here."

Cora sobbed and Derek shoved through, running up the stairs. Jordan was quick to follow. Stiles couldnt breathe. His arms were growing hot, his vision blurring. 

"No," he sobbed broken lyrics. Even from where he stood at the jeep, the fire was hot. Unbearably so. 

"No, no, no," his sobbing turned into begging as he stumbled forward. "No, please, please no."

Stiles dropped when the second story crumbled, hitting his knees. Cora and Laura shrieked, and Stiles did too. 

And then Jordan was rushing through the door. Stiles ran over, grabbing an unconscious Derek and dragging him from the burning house. In Jordan's other arm was Talia. Stiles felt sick when Jordan laid her down beside Derek. 

She was burned, skin singed and open. She wasn't breathing. Stiles let out another sob, grabbing Derek's burned clothes tightly as Jordan ran back into the house. 

"Der-Der you gotta- gotta get up," Stiles sobbed, shaking Derek. Beside him, Talia's body smouldered. He choked on smoke. 

Jordan ran out again, this time with a body that had Stiles' stomach rolling. 

"No," he gasped out. Peter looked just as bad as Talia. Stiles turned over and threw up as Jordan set Peter and Mark down. 

The first floor collapsed before Jordan could go back for anyone else. 

"No, please, no," Stiles sobbed, crawling across the ground and grabbing at Peter's shirt. "Peter!"

Stiles shook him, sparks burning his already burned clothes. His skin was badly burned, hair gone, just like Talia, and Mark and the rest of the pack in the burning house. 

Laura and Cora were over with them too. 

"Wake up!" Stiles shouted, shaking Peter. "Wake up, Peter! You gotta wake-" his voice cracked on a painful cry. 

Stiles felt his spark lash out and he scurried away from Peter, feeling his chest tighten to the point of pain. It was all too much to bare. 

He scrambled to his feet and climbed into the jeep. He was going to blow, he knew it. He lost control, lost Peter. He couldn't-

Stiles slammed on the gas and tore out of the driveway as fast as he could. 

Tears blurred his vision, his steering wheel melted in his grip, the engine struggled to perform. 

And then Stiles saw the headlights of a car not far from the road and slammed on the breaks. 

Hunters, the nemeton practically roared in his ears, and Stiles felt rage building in his chest. 

He didnt know how he did it, but one minute he was storming around the hood of the jeep, and the next he was in front of the car a few yards away. 

Guns were raised when he stood in front of them, and Stiles lifted his arms on a rage filled shout, filling the small clearing with light and electricity. 

The guns turned red and the hunters dropped them. Stiles recognized Kate and the mentalist and his blood boiled over. 

"You killed my family," he sneered, voice growing two-toned. Stiles held them all by their puny human sparks, keeping them immobile. 

"They did nothing!" Stiles screamed, hands shaking, body buzzing and burning, tears streaming down his cheeks. 

Without thought, Stiles ripped at the sparks in three of the hunters and they dropped. Stiles took their sparks, feeling his own absorb them before turning black eyes to the mentalist. 

He tried to beg, but Stiles couldn't hear him over the roar of power and blood. Stiles snarled, tightening his right hand into a fist. 

"Plea-" the mentalist dropped like a rock, blood dribbling from his eyes and ears. Then, all that was left was Kate. 

"Listen-"

"No!" Stiles shouted, the deeper, darker and gravelly tone in his voice practically thundered. "You took them from me, now you're going to fucking die."

"Wait!"

Stiles used his spark to pin her arms to her sides, squeezing her until she choked. 

"You burned my family," he growled. "They did nothing."

Kate gaped for words, not getting enough air. Stiles squeezed tighter. A part of him -a small part in the back of his mind- knew he shouldn't be able to do this. He hadn't learned how to do this yet. 

But he didnt care. She hurt his family. She murdered his pack, and that pain felt as fatal as a bullet to the head. 

"Do you know how it feels to watch your family burn?" Stiles shouted. So much rage, so much power, Stiles shook with it. 

And then he let Kate go. She dropped to the ground, unconscious. "You're about to fucking find out," he decided. 

It didnt take long to get he rto the jeep, not when he used his spark. He was out of control, but he didnt care. He had no anchor, no reason to control his spark. 

Control was over rated. 

He was angry. Angry enough to let his rage fuel him, and he was speeding down the road with an unconscious hunter in the passenger seat. 

Oh, he was going to show Kate just how Stiles felt. It wasnt hard to follow the telluric currents, to follow the nemetons guiding hand to Redding, to where he knew Kate's family was. 

He felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket and he fished it out. 

"Stiles-" it was Laura. "Stiles, where are you?"

Stiles didnt answer. He didnt care that the phone was probably going to be damaged the longer he held it, the way the steering wheel was. 

"Please, Stiles, come back."

"No," Stiles growled, voice two-toned and filled with rage and pain. "Not until she knows how it feels."

"Stiles-"

Stiles hangs up and throws the phone into the back seat. Kate wakes up just as Stiles screeches to a halt in front of the massive warehouse. 

"You're going to watch as I burn your family to the ground," Stiles gritted out, yanking Kate from his jeep. "And then I'm going to rip you apart."

"You think you can-"

"Stop fucking talking!" Stiles shouted, his spark exploring from his hands. Kate let out a scream of pain, Stiles having burned her. He didnt care. 

Stiles was pushed further back as his spark grew, and it was almost like he blacked out. He felt every death, heard every scream and plea and sob, but he couldnt stop. Wouldn't stop even if he could. 

At some point his entire body glowed like melted glass, eyes black as night. He didnt stop until the warehouse was burning, with Kate alive inside it. 

Stiles' anger bled from him so fast he dropped to his knees in the melted snow, head falling back and screaming a sob into the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada!! I meant to post this closer to non but its almost five now so oops?? Tell me what you think! I'm just starting on 64, and chapter 65 will have a soft ending, so we aren't ending on a bad note!


	62. Chapter 62

Stiles woke up to flashing lights. To someone calling his name. He cried, curling in on himself to try and squeeze the pain he felt in his chest until it went away. 

"Jesus, kid," came his dad's voice, and Stiles cried harder. 

"Dont touch him," someone ordered. "Let me. You get the door."

Stiles moaned when he was lifted into someone's arms. He managed to open his eyes. The fire had died down considerably but it was still going strong. 

Jordan was carrying him. Stiles' body was smoking, but he shivered with cold. He was naked, skin dark with soot. 

"We gotta call this in," John spoke up. 

"Not our county, Sheriff," Jordan said, climbing into the back seat with Stiles still in his arms. "We can't be here when the first responders show up."

"It hurts," Stiles whimpered. This pain was worse than any paid he'd ever felt before. Worse than losing his mother. It was a debilitating pain that hadn't gone away when Stiles killed the hunters. It didn't go away when Stiles used his spark until it sputtered into something small and exhausted. 

He came to again when he was set into cold water. A wet rag was put on his forehead. 

"You're okay," John spoke, words repeating in hushed tones. Stiles let out a broken noise. "Its alright, you're okay."

He thought Jordan was there with them. Thought maybe Derek had made an appearance, but Stiles couldn't be sure. Everything was a haze of tears and unconsciousness. 

It didnt hurt as much when he was unconscious, so he didnt fight the pull. 

When he woke up, he was in sweat pants. In front of him was Cora, behind him was Derek. At Cora's back was Laura. They were all asleep, the sun was up and everyone looked like they'd cried all night. 

Stiles broke down crying again, and the three Hales tightened their hold against him and cried too. He choked on his tears, breath hitching painfully. Arms and legs were tangled together, all holding on desperately. 

*-*

Stiles woke up alone. He wished he hadn't. His tears are all dried up, and even when he tries to force himself to cry, nothing comes out. 

He brings his legs up to his chest and tucks his chin, knuckles pressing painfully into his sternum. 

Theres a soft knock on the door. Stiles doesn't answer, but it opens.

"You awake?" Its his dad. Stiles doesn't move an inch, doesn't indicate that he's up at all. But John steps inside and pulls his desk chair over and sits down. 

Stiles stares up at him in a desperate plea for him to fix it. For his dad to make it better. He knows he can't, which just makes Stiles want to cry all over again. 

"So, werewolves, huh?" 

Stiles sniffles a little and lifts his head. "Who told you?" He croaked, voice so raw from crying. 

"Laura did," John sighed. "Told me a lot I'm still trying to wrap my head around."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Stiles whispered. John smiled softly at him, shaking his head. 

"I know why you didnt," he confessed. He let that hang between them. Its heavy, and Stiles chews on his lip to keep it from wobbling. 

"Turns out werewolves aren't the only things out there," John said, giving Stiles a knowing and curious look. 

"I lost-" Stiles' breath hitched, cutting himself off. He lost control, but what came out of his mouth on a sob was, "I lost Peter."

John moved quickly, sitting down on the bed and pulling Stiles into his chest. Tears flowed freely now, his hands shaking. 

"They're dead," he gasped, burying his nose into John's shoulder. "They- they're dea-"

Stiles can't get a handle on his breathing. Its sharp and shuddering. They rip through his throat painfully. His hands spark and he shoves them to his chest to keep from hurting his dad. 

"My pack," he wails, burning his tshirt. 

"Hey, hey, shh," John tries to sooth. It doesn't work. 

Then someone is in the room with them, climbing into the bed beside Stiles. Hands grab his shoulders and pull him from his dad. 

"Stiles, you gotta get control," Laura says, voice sounding just as raw and heartbroken as Stiles' is. 

He lets Laura pull him into her side, away from his dad while his hands sizzle-pop. 

"I-I can't!" Stiles chokes out. He doesn't have his anchor anymore. He doesn't have Peter. 

Derek and Cora come in too. Cora is crying again, and John pulls her into his side. Derek's eyes are red rimmed. 

"You need to," Laura said. "Stiles, you gotta calm down. You're going to hurt yourself." Hes going to hurt his dad, he thinks. 

Derek walks over, sniffling and kneels down beside the bed, placing hands on Stiles' thigh. 

"Peter's in the hospital, Stiles," he says. Its enough of a shock that Stiles freezes. 

"Wh-what?"

"He's in the hospital," Derek said, tears in his eyes. "So you gotta calm down."

Stiles lets out a broken whimper, fresh tears filling his eyes. 

"He's okay?"

Derek turns his eyes to Laura, who tightens her hold on Stiles. Stiles looks at her, breath caught in his lungs. 

"We don't know," she said softly. "Nobody knows, but he's alive."

"How-how? I saw him-" he saw him lying there beside Talia, both burned almost to the point of unrecognition. 

"We don't know."

"I want to see him," Stiles said, hands shaking, but no longer sparking. 

"Not right now, son," John sighs. "He's in bad shape, no one's going to see him until he wakes up."

Stiles has a shred of hope though, and he looks up at his dad. "Any-anyone else?"

But the look on his dad's face and the sudden tightness he's being held with is answer enough. Stiles whimpers a little and curls into Laura. 

They stay like that for a while. Stiles doesn't know how long, but long enough for the four of them to let their tears dry up. 

"You guys come on into the kitchen," John said, patting Cora on the shoulder. "You all need to eat."

But nobody has much of an apatite. Stiles grabs Laura's hand as they leave his room. He doesn't think he'd be able to stand without her. 

They all sit around the table with a thick silence thats filled with nothing but grief and pain. John makes them food, and they pick at it silently. He takes it in stride. 

"You guys have any family to call?" John asked when no one finishes their food. 

"No," Laura shakes her head. "No, we- pack is all the family we have- had."

Stiles digs his nails into his palms to keep his spark in check, leg bouncing under the table. 

"I'm- I'm the alpha now," she continues tightly. "They're my responsibility." She gestures weakly to Stiles, Derek and Cora with her head. "We're the only pack left."

Derek lets out a broken whine, burying his face in the arms folded over the table. 

"You can all stay here," John said. "For as long as you need."

Stiles stands up from the table, chair scraping against the floor and catching everyone's attention. He rushes out of the kitchen and through the back door to the yard. 

No one follows him out. He leaves the yard, stepping into the preserve and only stopping when he reaches the clearing with the large tree on its side. The roots are mangled. 

Stiles doesn't care that the ground is still frozen, that he can see his breath as he puffs. He drops to his ass, leaning against the tree and looking at the clearing. 

Where Stiles and Peter used to lay in the grass. Stiles' arm under his head, Peter's muzzle on his stomach. 

Where Stiles drew and Peter napped. This clearing feels millions of miles away, even though he's right there. He brings his knees up, curling his arms around his legs and resting his chin on top.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the sadness train!!
> 
> You guyshated the cliffhanger last chapter, it made my evil writer self cackle maniacally! 
> 
> What do you guys think???


	63. Chapter 63

Derek finds him a while later, carrying a coat and a pair of shoes. Stiles is shivering now, but he doesn't want to go back inside. 

Derek doesn't ask him to. Instead, he drapes the coat over his shoulders and drops the shoes by his feet and then sits down beside him. 

"Its my fault," Stiles said, breaking the silence. Derek glances over at him with a frown, eyes still puffy and red.

Stiles looks down, picking at a piece of thread from his jeans. "Its my fault the pack is- is gone."

"How?" Derek asked, voice quiet. 

"I wasn't strong enough," Stiles whispered, knowing if he spoke any louder he'd start crying again. "That night in the Argent's basement. I wasn't strong enough. The mentalist- he was there, with Kate. They were there."

"What?"

"I killed them," Stiles whimpered. "I killed them all. I-I took Kate to Redding-" a sob breaks through his words and he tucks his face into his knees; hiding. "I made her watch."

He remembers how his whole body burned and cracked like melted metal, how his eyes itched -black covering every part of them- how his tone wasn't his own. 

He remembers how his own spark absorbed the human ones like something starved, how it fueled him, how he liked the feeling. Stiles felt bile rise in his throat. 

"They're all gone?" Derek asked after a long moment. Stiles looked up just enough to peak at him, and sees fresh tears in his eyes, his jaw clenched tightly and hands fisted on his knees. 

"I burned the building down around them," he whispered. Derek glanced over at him too. 

"Good."

*-*

Stiles can't stomach eating anything. He can't sleep, and neither can anyone else. Laura and Cora sleep in the guest bed across the hall, and Stiles hears Laura struggling with control when he should be sleeping. 

She had been training to become an alpha when Talia gives it to her, but now that she has it, its a hard thing to grasp. Stiles' own spark is hard to get a handle on, and on many occasions, he's burned through his clothes. 

His jeep steering wheel is melted beyond repair and will have to be replaced. His hands sizzle-pop as often as they did when he was still learning what he was. Maybe even more. 

He wants Peter, but he can't bring himself to go to the hospital. He doesn't want to see him. To see the skin burned off his muscle, charred and black. He can't see him like that. 

Its been three days since the fire, and Stiles doesn't really leave the house. If he does, its to cry at the clearing. John tries, but there's not much he can do, and he knows it. 

John gets home a little earlier than he usually does, and Cora lets out a high pitched whine that grabs Stiles' attention. 

"Peter," Laura breathes and then all three of them are scrambling from Stiles' bed and thundering down the stairs. 

Stiles doesn't move. He can't. His breath is frozen in his lungs and his eyes burn. But he doesn't move. 

He doesn't know what to expect. Would Peter be just as burned as before? Will he look the same? Will he be the same?

Stiles' hands spark to life and Stiles burrows into the bed, covering himself with the blanket. Some childish logic that nothing can hurt him under here. 

He pinches his eyes shut tight, curls his hands into his chest in a vain attempt to save his blankets from the burning sizzle-pop of his fingers. 

Theres a gentle knock on the door and Stiles sucks in a shuddering breath, curling his body up tight. 

The bed sinks and a hand settles on Stiles' shoulder. 

"You gonna come out, Stiles?" Its Peter. His voice sounds normal, if a little tight and grief-stricken. Stiles tries to hold back the small cry, but it comes out anyway. He pushes the blanket away and sits up. 

Arms wrap around him and pull Stiles in. He goes willingly, and his shoulders shake with his crying. He holds on like Peter will disappear at any second. Tears soak into Stiles' shirt, Peter's own cries soft and breathy. 

It takes a lot for Stiles to pull back. He keeps ahold on Peter as his blurry vision takes him in. He doesn't look like before. Theres a burn on the side of his face that disappears below the collar of his hospital blue cotton tshirt, and his arm is the same, but its fleshy, not charred and black and oozing. 

Stiles' lip wobbles and he ducks back into his neck. "I thought- I thought you died," he gasped. Peter holds him tighter, pressing his nose into Stiles' shoulder. 

"I'm okay," Peter murmured, kissing Stiles' neck. "You saved me."

Stiles shook his head, squeezing Peter tightly. "Jordan pulled you out," he said. "I-I didn't do anything." He should've done something. 

Peter pulled back, grabbing Stiles by the shoulders and forcing Stiles to sit upright and look at the werewolf. 

The burns on the side of his face were hard to look at, and even harder to look away from. 

"Stiles, if you hadn't practiced all those protection spells on me, I wouldn't be here now," Peter said, voice firm even with tears in his red-rimmed eyes. 

"But-" Stiles shook his head, wiping at his eyes. "But they didn't work."

"They must have," Peter said, tugging Stiles back into his chest. "Theres no reason I should be alive," his voice a low whisper, breath hitching in his tears. Stiles shoved his face into Peter's shoulder again. "You saved me, sweetheart."

Stiles let out a little choked sob, guilt and pain filling him to the brim. His hands shook as he held onto his mate. 

"I lost control," Stiles whispered. "I thought you died, and-and I lost-"

"Shh, its okay, baby," Peter shudhed, holding Stiles just as tight. 

"Its not," Stiles shook his head. "I'm not- I'm not a spark anymore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter's back!! 
> 
> Also, I'm in the middle of writing chapter 64 still (I had a break yesterday to spend six hours with my bushwacking friend, cutting shit up and building fires, it was so much fun and definitely needed) so if I don't post tomorrow then its because I'm still writing the next chapter! I'll try to get it done today but I've got a couple things I need to do still!


End file.
